The Underland Chronicles II Book 3: Fall of Ragers
by Vengeous
Summary: In this epic conclusion to the Underland Chronicles II trilogy, Gregor rallies his friends and allies together for one last showdown against Flavius and Operation Claw as the fate of the Underland hangs in the balance. With the threat of internal turmoil also on the horizon, not everyone will return home alive from the most titanic and bitter struggle in the Underland's history…
1. Chapter 1: Bartholomew of Sandwich

**HELLO EVERYONE! It's great to be back again. Of course, as most of you have known for a while, I have decided to write the final instalment of my** **Underland Chronicles II** **trilogy, and this is it! This promises to be the most epic of all the stories I have come up with so far. Or at least I hope it will be.**

 **The title of this story seems to have given many of you a hint of what is going to happen. Trust me, don't speculate too much. I promise you, what you expect will happen and what will happen can be two entirely different things.**

 **If you haven't read my previous two stories yet, I suggest you do. The Warrior's Legacy and Regalian Bloodbath must be read in order for you to truly understand this story. This story will feature the perspectives of Gregor and Calvin, as well as Luxa. In fact, one of the chapters will even be from the perspective of Grace, Gregor's mother. Again, I'm not going to disclose anything else.**

 **It's safe to say that as this is the final story in this trilogy, there will be a sense of finality to it. And along with that sense of finality, I guarantee controversy. I have a bad feeling that this story will not be as well-received as my previous stories because trust me, I will take risks. And I'll just give you a slight hint about one of those risks beforehand. It involves Calvin Oberton and his identity.**

 **But all in all, despite the controversy, I hope(as Vikus once did) that all of you enjoy this story. As usual, I would really appreciate it if you guys would be kind enough to review it. I can't wait to get started!**

 **This chapter was influenced by the story** **Sandwich** **by MarbleSky. Go there and read it to see how it influenced this chapter. By the way, this chapter may appear confusing because we are in the mind of Sandwich, which is really messed up. Also, do be ready for some mildly graphic scenes.**

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 **Chapter 1: Bartholomew of Sandwich**

He felt like he was frolicking amongst the blushing meadows back in England. Like a drunk goat with nothing to lose. That was it- a drunk goat. That was who he was. Trapped in his own dreams, unable to see the now blurred line between imagination and reality. Ah yes, free from the restraints, demands and expectations imposed on him, but still a slave of the real world. Chained to the fate of death and abject failure. One day, the lamb would die. Even the Lamb of God died.

Blasphemy. Father Henry would have rebuked him and possibly labelled him a heretic. A heretic? Really Father? The Lamb was crucified, after all. For all the power he possessed, he was still just as much human as the rest of them. The Christ himself could still taste the bitterness of death and the end of all good things. The end of love, of life, of power, of glory, of wine, of money, of lust…

Yes, he knew he was on the verge of death. The prophetic dreams were coming faster, harder, more intensely, and it was shredding his mind completely. He had been in the bloody room for surely an eternity and even longer. The endless depths of the walls was pushing him down a dark, ravenous hole which consumed everything. He could see everything so clearly now amongst the yawning chasm of darkness which beckoned for him to draw closer. He could even make out a glimpse of his death- in blinding pain and unrestrained hate. All he had to do was to make everything rhyme.

Rhyming. A game for children, now a challenge on his deathbed. Or whatever rubbish he was going to end up lying on. He was going to have to stubbornly stave off the reaper who was already banging hard on his door, or he'd never finish the rhyming. It was all part of the game, you see. A game in which he was nearing completion. Toying with their minds, springing surprises on them, destroying their hopes, deceitfully concealing the true nature of his rhyming. So many mind games- it was unparalleled beauty.

He was rolling around the unparalleled beauty of the flowers again. It was… admittedly… rather addictive. He sniffed its fragrant scent as a bee hovered just above its blood-stained petals. Blood always enhanced the smell and the taste, being as invigorating as God meant to make it. It was so essential to life but acted as a representation of suffering and death. How ironic.

His life was a living irony. In his bid to claim power for himself, he had rid himself of the ultimate power in human hands- their own life. So here he was, talking to non-existent shadows, letting his greed and hatred gnaw away at his soul as his world crumbled around him.

He stumbled to his feet and laid his hands on the inscriptions which had already decorated half the room. The prophecies… this extended to everything for the next three centuries or so. Enough to torment Regalians and lure them into throwing their fate to chance. But the best was still yet to come.

Sandwich couldn't wait to get started.

First there were the deaths of the princess' parents. He could see the scene replaying itself before his very eyes. _"Run! Judith, run! Get to Luxa! I'll hold them off!"_ someone bellowed. Oh yes, it was the father. Sandwich gulped nervously even though he knew the outcome of what was happening. As beautiful and hilarious as this scene was, it still appealed to the last glimpse of humanity still present in his consciousness. Two parents were fighting to save each other and their baby. It was a well-executed ambush by the rat king, one which he himself wouldn't have foreseen. The king and his wife stood no chance with so little protection and so many rats.

 _The rats converged on the king, tearing and gnawing into him._

Gnawing. That word again. One of the words which resounded in his head back when the visions started. The rats were the gnawers- it made perfect sense. Utterly perfect sense. The rats… were the gnawers. Gnawers… were the rats.

 _So they tore into the king, leaving him bloodied and half-dead. The rat king sauntered up to him and peered down at the fallen king. "So here we are, old friend. This is really nothing personal, but I was wondering where the rest of your family is? I do have a gift for Solovet."_

Sandwich jerked back slightly. Solovet was revolting. Or at least she was from what little had had seen of her. Disgusting, despicable Solovet. A bit like him, really.

 _The king coughed out blood and croaked out,_ _"I'll never tell you where they're hiding. I'd rather die."_

Sandwich snorted. How cliched this was. The valiant hero not willing to give out information under duress.

 _The rat shot him a dark and haunting smile. "I'd rather you die too, but we'll get to that in a bit. Because if you don't tell me where Vikus, Solovet and your little Luxa is, SHE dies."_ _One rat dragged the queen back into the scene. She had lost one eye and two claw marks stretching down her face wiped out her natural beauty in a flash._

" _Judith,"_ _the king choked out, looking heartbroken._

" _I love you," the queen replied through heavy pants as more blood gushed out of her wounds._

 _The king was about to reply in response, but the rat quickly slit his throat. The king's head lulled forward suddenly as a river of blood flowed out of his injury._

Sandwich cackled with delight. That was absolutely brutal from the rat, and he loved every second of it.

" _Curse you Gorger! Curse you in the name of Sandwich!" the queen howled, "Ripred will find you and tear you from limb to limb!"_

" _Ripred?" the rat chuckled, "He's still moping around the Dead Lands feeling sorry for himself. I highly doubt that he'll come to your rescue. That weakling is the reason your husband is dead now."_

" _That weakling could have claimed that crown from you," the queen hissed, "if he wasn't too busy keeping the peace here."_

" _And look where that has got him," the rat sneered, "Now his mate and pups are dead. He's destroyed emotionally. He wanders around the Dead Lands searching for death. And I am on the throne."_

" _He will end you! Sandwich has predicted this and it cannot be undone. Your life will be ended by Ripred!" the queen howled back._

" _Sandwich is an absolute joke and a children's myth. Your stupidity and obsession with Sandwich bewilders me," the rat king replied._

Hey. That was very impolite. Sandwich was half-tempted to go there and slap the rat across the face.

 _The rat looked down on the queen with the faintest sign of sympathy, his voice descending quickly into nothing more than a whisper, "I pity the killers. You all are so… fragile, yet you delusional people have somehow fooled yourselves into thinking you are the superior race. I have seen Underlanders you could never have ever imagined in your wildest dreams. Their intellect and strength outstrip you and they could tear you to pieces if they had the will to do so. I have seen the Uncharted Lands and the monstrosities that lie in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to return. Whether you die today or tomorrow makes no difference. In the end, the killers will perish just like the diggers before them. Luxa will be nothing more than a corpse very soon. But for today, she'll have to settle for the loss of her parents."_

A normal person would shield themselves from the brutality that was about to unfold before their very eyes. But Sandwich had seen far worse, and he really couldn't do anything about the blood-filled images and the hysterical screaming that strained his mind to its fullest. He could almost feel the queen's agony as she howled away. Sandwich winced slightly, but this scene hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Or did it? He wasn't sure. He could never truly be sure about anything these days.

 _The rat king wrapped his claws around the fallen king's crown and jammed it onto his head violently, trying to force it to fit. "If only we had the thumbs humans had…"he murmured nonchalantly to nobody in particular. A voice cried out in the distance, and the rat king's ears shot up immediately._

" _Let us leave them with this carnage," he told the other rats, "This will be a welcome sight for Vikus and Solovet. They will soon be taken out of the equation. Fangor, bring your battalion and join Snare at the Waterway."_

" _Yes, your Majesty," one rat bowed his head deeply, and scurried off._

The images suddenly shattered into thousands of shards right in front of Sandwich. He jerked back violently, swinging his arms wildly to deflect the shards away. But even though they never touched his head, he could feel the searing pain rippling through his mind, hollering his name away as it steamrollered his memories, leaving him dazzled by the sheer…

By the sheer…

Beauty. The sheer beauty.

Sandwich stumbled to his feet, before crashing into the battlements. He veered over to his right and knocked a soldier over, before accidentally tripping over and impaling himself on a…

His eyes snapped back open. Was he hallucinating again? He probably was. He always hallucinated. His fingers instantly found themselves fingering his chest, trying to search for the tip of the spear he had been impaled on.

Oh right. That was another hallucination.

His senses were completely distorted as more dreams and visions crashed into him, overwhelming him. He let loose a hysterical scream in an attempt to drown out the cacophony that had now embraced him, as so many bloody voices yelled bloody murder as one more bloody person died in yet another bloody bloodbath of bloody soldiers and bloody rats and bloody…

Then it stopped. The voices stopped. He nearly let loose a cackle of relief, but then a new image appeared in his head.

Sandwich had become accustomed to seeing the same old dreams over and over and over again. He could practically recite some scenes in his head without even trying too hard. Memorising the lines from the dream of the king and queen's death? Elementary. He could even repeat them with a lisp in the middle of another dream.

But this image was special. Sandwich rarely got to see him, and when he did, it was always such a spectacle. Sandwich had seen many, many things, and many, many people, but none were quite the same as HIM.

Sandwich had a deep-seated antipathy towards the heroic and pretentious Regalians that often galloped across his vision, but this was HIM.

A soldier clad in black armour ambled forward, his weary posture suggesting the years of turmoil and torment had taken its toll on him. He sagged forward slightly, an indication of the unfathomable burden that rested on those delicate shoulders. And his body language was the sign of a hero that had been pushed to his very limits- a hero that was teetering on the edge of a cliff, with the hungry jaws of death waiting below. This was no ordinary hero. It was HIM.

The Warrior. He could feel the excitement as the title echoed around the room. Or around his brain. He didn't know and it didn't matter. He was beyond being pedantic and caring about the minor details of his deteriorating brain.

The Warrior was the key to everything- the Underland's fate could never ever be predetermined or decided because of him. It all hinged on the nature of his intervention. He was the foil to Sandwich- Sandwich had set in stone, quite literally, the path that Regalia would take. But he was now at the crossroads, and the Warrior was standing in his way.

Not that Sandwich minded. Even he needed a nemesis, an archrival, someone who could deny him complete success. Just like how every hero needs a villain, how light needs darkness, and how even God needs the devil, Sandwich needed the Warrior. He needed the Warrior to complete him. To finally send him over the edge and spiralling into the darkness below him which hadn't yet fully enveloped him. And one day, he would return the favour to the Warrior. He would be the catalyst behind the Warrior's fall.

Or at least, as the old man would have put it, he _hoped_ so.

Sandwich had seen various outcomes regarding the Warrior- but he didn't know which one of them would fulfil the prophecies he was set to create. There was no doubt that the Warrior would be affected by the words of Sandwich's prophecies- fate worked in fascinating and often complex ways. The question was- to what degree would the Warrior be affected? Would he take Sandwich's words as the dogmatic truth, or nothing but lies woven together with small truths? Would he see Sandwich as an omniscient entity or a disgusting low-life fraud? Sandwich had to admit…

Had to admit…

He didn't know.

This was why the Warrior was his foil. Sandwich simply didn't know enough about him to spin and weave his fancifully vile prophecies. No, no.

No.

He could still add a last twist in the tale. A final nail in his personal coffin. To plunge his mind into the filth of the future and conjure up a prophecy that would set up a game of chess between him and the Warrior. Yes, yes.

Yes.

He could almost hear his father whispering softly, "Bart… you're above this all. You have always been my favourite son because you could stand above it all."

"Aristocracy does not put us above anything," Sandwich snarled fiercely as he gazed up into the hollow eyes of the ghostly apparition which was his father. A dagger was lodged in his skull, just as he remembered his father. Murdered by his own mistress. A bloody fool.

His father leaned in and said in the softest and most delicate of tones, " _You're the bloody fool_."

Sandwich glanced down at his arms, which were soaked in blood. He had never cleansed himself of the guilt of his past, but then again, he never had felt any guilt.

What the hell was with all the blood?

Sandwich shook his head compulsively, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Images of the past, his past, the Warrior's past, the king's past, the queen's past, the rat's past… overlapped with each other as everything became a jumbled heap and a messy haystack of memories plastered together. The noise was absolutely unbearable, as Sandwich fought hard to stifle a scream of agony which was moments away from escaping his throat. Voices began to echo incessantly as thousands upon thousands of people spoke, with Sandwich struggling to discern…

… so, so much pain…

 _A son of the sun._

That was it.

It was perfect.

 _A son of the sun._

He hollered excitedly, "SCRIBE!" as the visions became more focused on the dim outline of a lean and nervous boy coming face to face with a group of crawlers. He was vaguely aware of the scribe bursting into the room rapidly, scurrying forward with a quill in hand. Sandwich ignored him as he began to craft his prophecy, with the myriad of words that were floating…

… that were floating…

… the rhyming had to be perfect…

… that were floating…

 _Time hangs by a thread._

 _White water…_

… _Runs red._

But how many of them?

 _Two over, two under, of royal descent,_

 _Two flyers, two crawlers, two spinners…_

Damn it, what was the word? Bloody Jesus Christ, what was the god damned word?

He could hear Father Henry's faint voice chiding him, "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, Bartholomew. Misusing His Holy Name displeases the Lord."

Father Henry could go and shove those words up his bloody arse.

He was nothing but a disgusting priest who utilised the Bible to gain access to the rooms of younger, prettier girls…

Then the word came to him.

 _Assent._

Of course they needed to assent, especially since they were spinners. Of course, it all made sense now.

And then the name Henry cryptically echoed around his head again.

 _THE LAST WHO WILL DIE MUST DECIDE WHERE HE STANDS._

 _THE FATE OF THE EIGHT IS CONTAINED IN HIS HANDS._

 _SO BID HIM TAKE CARE, BID HIM LOOK WHERE HE LEAPS,_

 _AS LIFE MAY BE DEATH AND DEATH LIFE AGAIN REAPS._

Sandwich beamed with delight. An absolute masterpiece. The Warrior would never see this coming. "It's called the prophecy of Gray," he announced triumphantly, pleased to hear the furious scribbling over the coarse paper.

"Are we done here, sire?" the scribe asked in that monotonous voice of his.

Sandwich staggered about for a while like a drunkard in the middle of the street… before savagely hitting the scribe right in the stomach. The scribe doubled over in pain and bit down on his tongue fiercely to hold a scream back. Sandwich grabbed the greasy hair of the young man and yanked on it hard, again cutting even closer to provoking the scribe into a scream. He then leaned in and whispered, "We are only done here once I SAY we are done. Don't you dare question me again, or I will personally cut your tongue from that piece of shit which is your mouth. I am the bloody king, you get me? You do whatever I TELL YOU to do. Do you get me, boy?"

"Yes, sire," the scribe replied instantly, his face scrunched up in intense suffering.

Sandwich eyed him from head to toe for a while before releasing the scribe. He slumped back down to his knees as the dreams continued their endless flow through his ravaged mind. He was on a roll.

He could feel optimism in his soul again. He was going to figure everything out soon.

 _If Under fell, if Over leaped_

It was something of a disclaimer for Sandwich. Who knew what the prophecy of Gray would result in, after all? If the Warrior died… no, that would be too anti-climatic. Fate wanted its fair share of fun too, after all. He was sure the Warrior would make it… somehow. But if somehow fate had rendered his prophecies useless… ah, who cared? He'd be long dead and beyond caring.

 _Rat of long-forgotten snow_

The Bane. The monster. The abomination. The dictator. The catalyst. The antagonist. The enemy. Oh yes, the future of the Underland was about to become very exciting indeed.

 _Die the baby, die his heart_

"It's called the prophecy of… of…" Sandwich huffed, feeling exhausted beyond the maximum point of exhaustion. Never had his dreams and visions realised themselves before him so intensely. he wiped the cold sweat off his brow and croaked out, "Bane. Prophecy of Bane. How long has it been since I've called you in?"

"Four hours, sire," the scribe replied stoically.

Spending four hours grovelling on the stone floor that passed so fast it felt like a quick trip to the red light district- absolutely astounding. He felt like he had drained himself of the current currency which governed his world.

Time.

He was running out of it. Every second he spent dreaming he inched that much closer to death.

 _Turn._

Sandwich spun and spun and spun again, to…

 _see the what, but not the when_

What a nice, darkly cynical twist right at the very end. After the blood of humans and rats were spent… the futility of their quest would finally slam harshly into their faces. Which was just what Sandwich yearned for. For his prophecies to flip them back on their backs and show them that they were never really in control the whole time.

He was.

But enough with the blatant prophecies. Sandwich was literally sick and literally tired of crafting them. "I've got a number of nursery rhymes to introduce to the young ones," he informed his scribe, slurring away like a drunkard, which wasn't too far from the truth. He was honestly drunk with his own visions.

Then he rattled off, "

 _Dancing in the firelight,_

 _See the queen who conquers night._

 _Gold flows from her, hot and bright_

 _Father, mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go_

 _I do not know_

 _If we will see another_

 _Catch the nibblers in a trap._

 _Watch the nibblers spin and snap._

 _Quiet while they take a nap._

 _Father, mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go_

 _I do not know_

 _If we will see another_

 _Now the guests are at our door_

 _Greet them as we have before._

 _Some will slice and some will pour._

 _Father, mother, sister, brother,_

 _Off they go_

 _I do not know_

 _If we will see another_ "

Sandwich almost burst into peals of laughter as he observed the horrified expression on the face of the scribe. He was clearly an intellectual one and could see right through the innocent, flowery exterior of the rhymes, and into the innately dark nature it possessed. It was the snake concealed by the colour of the flower, slinking slowly through, waiting to unleash its venomous fangs and tear apart the lives of everyone forever.

Sandwich could see everything- the deaths, the pyramid, the despair… and it was about to kickstart the war designed to end all wars. Or rather, the war which would open up a new era.

"Why do you look so disturbed, boy?" Sandwich asked with ironic curiosity.

The scribe's pale face turned even paler as he stammered, "Sire… sire… I uh… I uh… feel that… I apologise for… for… my indiscretion. I will… um… I promise I… will not look so nervous in the future."

As the scribe stuttered away, Sandwich's own breathing became shallower and shallower, as the world around him slowed down to the pace of his fading heartbeat. He was running out of time…

 _TIME IS RUNNING OUT_

 _RUNNING OUT_

 _RUNNING OUT_

He still had one last gift for the Warrior, as his breathing became more ragged…

 _TO THE WARRIOR GIVE MY BLADE_

 _BY HIS HAND YOUR FATE IS MADE_

 _BUT DO NOT FORGET THE TICKING_

He could hear the ticking- the countdown to his impending sleep. The eternal sleep which would bury him in a legacy forged through death and betrayal. And a reputation as the most despised and feared entity throughout the Underland.

 _WHEN THE WARRIOR HAS BEEN KILLED_

The hero they deserved and needed was to be killed.

 _WHEN THE WARRIOR HAS BEEN KILLED_

He was to be the penultimate sacrifice in a war of sacrifices- the last was the love of his life. Sandwich could already feel the inner torment as the rock was sealed in place.

 _WHEN THE WARRIOR HAS BEEN KILLED_

Of course he wouldn't be killed so literally- Sandwich wasn't even done with him yet. Sandwich hadn't completed the affliction the Warrior was to endure. Sure, he would embed the pain deep in the Warrior's heart with his words, but that was not the last thing to do on his bucket list. He was going to destroy the Warrior once and for all with the final prophecy.

"Call this one the Prophecy of Ragers," he told the scribe.

The voices began to intensify faintly as he felt the blood in his body slog through his veins. He didn't have long left to live.

" _If you are not trying to hold on to time, you are not so afraid of losing it."_

" _If I don't go with Boots, I'm not going at all."_

" _... many creatures would prefer not to fight. But if your first instinct is to reach for your sword, you will never discover that."_

" _I was going to say that life is short. There are only a few good things in it, really. Don't pretend that one isn't happening."_

" _Don't go, Ares, okay? Don't."_

" _Where we differ is that I believe that fate ironically gives us a choice. A choice of whether to believe that we are consigned to a designated fate, or a choice to change our destinies. We aren't being forced to become slaves of fate."_

Sandwich was wheezing weakly now. Not… long left. He had seen past the prophecy of Time- the Gunner, the civil war, the bloodbath… but he was far too weak to craft anything more. He was vaguely aware that he had begun to babble gibberish that rhymed, but he was far too tired to care. He had given up on caring for far too long.

He could see the return of the foxes. The bloody bastards he had tricked were finally returning with a vengeance and a ruthless cunning plan to eradicate Regalia. For a second, he thought he felt a tinge of guilt for incurring the wrath of the foxes and causing the future of Regalia to be in jeopardy.

But who honestly gave a shit? He'd be dead by then and he frankly couldn't be bothered whether he was the cause of Regalia's fall or not.

Most of his prophecies after the one about the Prophecy of Time would be rendered useless anyway.

 _The scarred rat trotted into the room and took in the surroundings with a sharp inhalation. Then, in a voice devoid of any emotion, he asked the guards, "Is Nerissa still asleep?"_

" _Yes, Lord Ripred," the guards replied in unison, in a voice equally indifferent._

" _Destroy the room. Burn all the inscriptions and throw the manuscripts away. Sandwich should no longer be in control of our fate. We've suffered under it for far too long," the scarred rat said with uncharacteristic grimness, "Do not speak of this task to anyone."_

" _And what if they ask what happened, Lord Ripred?" one guard asked._

" _Tell them that an accidental fire destroyed the room," the scarred rat replied, "Regalians are fatalistic. They will not question what happened here."_

Sandwich managed a brief smile. The rat was everything that he had hoped for. Ruthless, intelligent and complicated. He would make up one of the four catalysts at the very end.

Oh yes, Sandwich had seen the only possible outcome of this one. Four ragers. The scarred rat and the exhausted Warrior squaring off against the diabolical fox and the misguided Overlander. The battle of the century. The fall of ragers. This was the final battle for each and every one of them. Sandwich could not see any future behind that showdown. And that could only mean one thing.

The Warrior's time was finally up.

It had taken a very, very long time, but the Warrior was finally even with Sandwich. Finally even.

Sandwich had finally run his course. He had lived through the lives of so many individuals in a single lifetime. He had seen four hundred years of Regalia and the Underland. He had finally encountered his antagonist(or was Sandwich the antagonist? He wasn't sure). He had put his mind through the most intense torture.

With his dying breath, he cursed the room and the city he was in. He didn't do it because he hated the city, he did it because… it was just fun.

Fun.

He would exist through all those who were cursed to share in his suffering. He would live through the centuries as the God of the Underland, as their Creator and Saviour. Who cared whether he was blaspheming or not, he was already damned to hell anyway. But there it was- he was officially God.

As his eyes began to close, he thought he heard a voice in the distance saying, _"This is the death I've been waiting for."_

He recognised that voice.

It was the Warrior.

So even the Warrior shared the same sentiment as him in death. Both enemies had finally agreed on something and had something in common- they had been waiting for death for far too long. In death, they were united.

And it was hilarious.

So Sandwich laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

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 **Hope you enjoyed this opening chapter to my story! I know it could get a bit confusing at times, but I made it deliberately so just so that you could see how insane Sandwich was.**

 **I predict that this is a pretty busy time for everybody, and to be completely honest, I'm pretty busy myself. I think at best i can update my story with a chapter a week, but I'm not entirely certain. Regardless, I hope you all can somehow weasel out the time to drop a quick review. I've been planning this for quite some time and I hope you all are looking forward to this.**

 **Question: What was your original perception of Sandwich before reading his chapter and what is your perception of Sandwich now?**

 **Fly you high!**


	2. Chapter 2: Mr Oberton

**Hello everyone! Hope your week has been fine. Sorry I took a week to iron things out and get this chapter up. My life is as hectic as hell at the moment and the pressure isn't lifting up. So do bear with my inconsistent updating. But anyway, a HUGE thank you to the following people who reviewed my story: Spywo1, A happy reader, TheGreatAthlon5(read your reveiws on my other stories. I love your constructive feedback and I really appreciate it), HumanicHedgeHog, shadowofdarkness, FierceDeity24, Clytuis, Alpha Death, MarbleSKy, Ssi'ruuk, pyro159 and Randonfire. You guys reviewed my previous stories and I'm glad to see y'all back at it again. Thank you to MyNamesGorger, DeathIcronix, Afly520 and SlyIntellect, for reviewing my story. I hope to see each and every one of you as my story progresses, it would really be super awesome if you guys could continue to help me to improve my story and encourage me down this final path.**

 **As per usual, this is just a gentle reminder that if you are new to this series, please read** _ **The Warrior's Legacy**_ **and** _ **Regalian Bloodbath**_ **first before reading this story. It'll help to lend some context to certain situations. I hope you enjoy chapter 2. We're really getting rolling now!**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

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 **Chapter 2: Mr Oberton**

And he laughed.

"Billionaire playboy? I never expected _The Economist_ to portray me as some kind of sex symbol at the ripe old age of 18," Calvin replied as suavely as he could, despite how out of place it sounded for someone his age.

"You have already been described as such by Bloomberg, Mr Oberton. It should not be much of a surprise that people are beginning to label you as an attractive young bachelor," the interviewer, a fairly pretty lady in her late thirties, explained.

"In which case I'm very flattered, but I'd prefer to just be known as Calvin Oberton. Not as the billionaire or as the playboy," he responded with a forced smile, trying not to sound flustered or nervous.

Calvin was very poor at matching a name to a face, so he decided he would settle for not addressing the interviewer by name at all if he could help it. Or the transcript would be teeming with awkward pauses and would make a fool out of him, which was going to become especially embarrassing now that media scrutiny on him had intensified. He was, after all, the son of Richard Oberton. And now that his eighteenth birthday had passed, he owned a majority of the shares in his father's company and had been pretty much catapulted into the limelight.

This was his third interview this month, following a quick discussion with _Forbes_ over the phone and a meeting with _The Financial Times_. It seemed as if everybody was suddenly obsessed with the sheer amount of wealth he had at his disposal as someone who had just turned eighteen. Inheriting his father's wealth had resulted in him smashing records like there was no tomorrow. Everybody wanted to run the article of having interviewed the world's youngest billionaire.

To be honest, it wasn't attention that Calvin was particularly clamouring for.

He had no idea what kind of front to put up for the world to see. Billionaire playboy? No, that never worked out. Humble young man? Not quite his style. How about your average billionaire? Was there ever an average billionaire? Was he supposed to behave like a person his age or someone much more mature? Debonair or rugged? Posh or modest? Complicated or simple? Ruthless or kind? Who was he supposed to be?

"Well, Mr Oberton, you are right that you're not just well-known for your looks. Many people are lauding your efforts to improve education in Zimbabwe and Zambia. What motivated you to embark on such a project?" the interviewer asked him, sounding uncharacteristically tame. Calvin had become too used to aggressive interviewers who pushed him hard for details on his personal life. Not this time, though.

"My father used to tell me that the world wasn't as beautiful to others as it was to me. Coming from my background, I'd only seen the nice face of this planet and not the less pleasant side of it. I was taught that there were children my age who didn't have even half of half of half of what I had. And as I grew up, I began to understand that my father intended to teach me that having been blessed with so much, it was my duty to pay society back. To give back to those in need. And there is no meaning in hoarding all this wealth when I have the power to spread some cheer on a little girl's face when she can go to school," Calvin answered genuinely.

The interviewer actually looked touched. "Wow," she breathed, "That is very inspiring, Mr Oberton. That being said, you do have critics and detractors who label you a hypocrite for accusing the CEO of Zephyr, Mr C.P. Oswald, of violating human rights in China and worker rights here in New York. They claim that you are trying to bring down a rival company in order to generate more revenue in the shipping business. What do you have to say to such allegations?"

Calvin had rehearsed this bit before. With the spotlight falling even more on this court case following Calvin's rise to fame, Calvin needed to send out a strong statement or he would be seen as weak-willed and way too hesitant to be taken seriously. "I'm not sure what these critics are trying to say," he began slowly, "Because they do sound very crude and uninformed to me. Are they trying to say that somehow I am not justified in telling the world that Mr Oswald's company is rife with disgusting violations of worker rights just because we are rival companies? Are they saying that I should have tried to hush this up? Because in my opinion, I have a duty to report such problems should they come to my attention."

"And how DID they come to your attention, Mr Oberton?" the interviewer asked, sounding simultaneously blunt and innocent.

"Does that really matter?" Calvin countered, "For me it doesn't, but if the world really wants to know, it has been divulged before. A few members of Zephyr, managing directors and workers included, who have transferred over to my company informed me of these details. For the sake of protecting their identities, I intend not to disclose their names."

"Some see this as a scheme to establish a monopoly of the business," the interviewer said tentatively, as if she was afraid of offending him.

"That is absurd and bordering on defamation," Calvin replied as coolly and calmly as possible, "I have been a firm believer in protecting worker rights and anybody who labels this as hypocrisy clearly does not understand the definition of hypocrisy. I have never ever felt such a compelling urge to act against someone, but in this case my conscience cannot rest until due process has been carried out for Mr Oswald."

The strength and conviction in his words surprised even himself. The interviewer looked like she had been taken aback slightly, before she recovered and said, "I do think we have to end on this note today, Mr Oberton. It was a real pleasure to have this discussion with you, and _The Economist_ will send over the article for you to vet and approve before we publish it. Once again, thank you for having this interview, especially in this lovely home of yours."

"You're very welcome," Calvin answered with a warm smile. He then opened the door and gestured for Mr Bennett to lead her out. "Perhaps we can have another discussion over coffee some time from now," he offered politely.

She responded with a surprisingly gentle smile, before saying, "That sounds great. You have my number. We'll see if we can arrange something."

Mr Bennett then led her out of the mansion, as Calvin strode back into the living room, before promptly slumping down on the sofa. He didn't know how long he could keep the facade up. He really didn't.

He was lost. There were no other words to describe his situation. For the first time in his whole life, he felt lost and alone. The mentors he once had- his father, Mr Carter, Lapblood and Gregor… they were all no longer part of his life. And now that they were gone, Calvin had no idea how to proceed from here. He didn't know whether to take up that offer to go to Brown. Or was Yale better? Maybe he should stay local in NYU…

"GOD DAMN IT!" he yelled as hard as he could, slamming his fist down on the coffee table in front of him. It promptly collapsed and broke, with the drinks on the table spilling out all over the carpet. He fumbled around feebly for the tissue box, but deep down he knew that wasn't what he was looking for.

He was looking for a purpose in right now, he had nothing.

It was as if his body was a hollow shell with the burning embers of hope and justice starting to fade away. It was so difficult to accept a life of mediocrity, even if being a billionaire was far from being mediocre. The exposure to all the fighting, all the politics and all the tragedies… they scarred you for life, but ironically left you longing for more of the same. All the money in the world couldn't buy Calvin a purpose in life, nor could it buy him any happiness. Even with so much power at his disposal, he felt powerless.

"I assume you'll want me to clean that up, Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said as he stepped into the room, surveying the mess that Calvin had made.

"Did the journalist hear any of it?" Calvin asked Mr Bennett in a tone devoid of any emotion as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

"You were very lucky, Master Calvin. She had just left the mansion. Had she heard you, I highly doubt that you would find the time to have coffee with her," Mr Bennett told him, almost as if he was reprimanding Calvin.

"That doesn't matter to me," Calvin grunted, "You know it doesn't. And you also know that I don't like you to call me Master Calvin. You've always called me Calvin before I turned eighteen."

"I used to address your father as such when he was an adult," Mr Bennett pointed out, "Now that you are an adult as well, I do feel it is time for me to address you by your proper title. You ARE the master of this house."

"I still call you Mr Bennett," Calvin replied, "And you're still my caretaker, not my butler."

"Please Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said, rolling his eyes, "We all know that I AM your butler. Your father didn't want you to develop a sense of entitlement, which is why he calls me a caretaker. And as for the way you address me, I'm starting to think it's time for you to address me by my first name."

"It wouldn't be the same," Calvin responded, "Too many things have changed in my life, and calling you Mr Bennett is one of the last remnants of my childhood."

"With all due respect master Calvin," Mr Bennett interjected politely, "You didn't have much of a childhood to begin with. Not many children are embroiled in the middle of a war at the age of fifteen. And things will change. I'm afraid that's inevitable. You're going to have to accept that you're an adult."

"That's the problem." Calvin sighed as he buried his face in his hands, "I'm grown-up now. And I just don't have any damn time to do anything I want. I was supposed to visit Zambia last month to oversee the programme. But I've got too much work on my hands and too little time. There are children there who need me, Mr Bennett. And I can't go there because Forbes wants to ask me what I'm going to do with the Oberton Trust Fund."

"They don't need you there anymore, Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said gently, "They need you here to continue your father's legacy. You have thousands of employees working in the Oberton Complex alone. They haven't had real leadership in years since your father has left. It's riddled with corruption and people need you to set things right the way your father would have done it. You can't skirt your responsibilities Master Calvin, even if you wanted to."

"To hell with my father's legacy," Calvin cursed, "I've spent enough time in the Underland to know that a legacy can crush you. I am NOT my father. I don't owe them what my father owed them just because I am his son. I didn't spend all my damn time in the Underland trying to run away from fate just to get caught by it again, Mr Bennett."

"I feel sorry for you, Calvin," Mr Bennett said, "I really do. You've seen things and done things that no child on this planet would ever do. You've lost the two most important people of your life before you were eleven. I can't even imagine what it must feel to be like you. But it can't be helped. You have no choice but to accept your situation."

"That's exactly what Gregor used to say," Calvin growled, "And he got it completely wrong. I am Calvin Oberton the Overlander, not Calvin Oberton, the son of Richard Oberton."

"I thought you'd have let go of the Underland already," Mr Bennett said darkly.

Calvin looked up into Mr Bennett's eyes and said, "You never let it go. Ever."

"I let you go down there because I respected your father, not because I agreed with him," Mr Bennett said harshly, "If he could see the person you have become today, I do believe he wouldn't have pushed you down this path."

"HE DIDN'T PUSH ME DOWN ANYTHING!" Calvin snapped back, "It was MY CHOICE."

"No, it wasn't," Mr Bennett said sadly, "Choosing to go to Princeton or Yale or Brown is your choice. But a boy your age never willingly chooses to enter a bloody war."

"So this is what it has come to?" Calvin said furiously, "You're going to insult me and expect to get away with it?"

"I never ever intended to insult you," Mr Bennett replied immediately, "I'm just trying to remind you that your days as a child are over. You can't be reckless anymore because other people's lives depend on it. There are people who need you to take up your responsibilities as a leader. And that means thinking about your own education, not a child in Zambia who is already a beneficiary of your money."

"The company doesn't need me and I don't want to lead it," Calvin said frustratedly, "I just own shares in it and I'm happy with it that way. I'll get someone else to run it and I'll use the money earned from it to continue my charity work. I'm not blowing four years of my life in college just to get a degree and run this freaking company."

"Did you not hear what I said earlier, Master Calvin?" Mr Bennett said with equal frustration as Calvin, " _Oberton_ is overrun with corruption. Workers are being retrenched in order for favours to be exchanged. People undeserving of high-ranking positions are climbing up the ladder and soon you'll be thrown out by them. It's a cut-throat world and I'm sorry that you don't understand that yet, but it's time for you to accept the reality of the situation! You have to stop lying to yourself."

"Fine," Calvin said, throwing his arms into the air in anger, "I'll sell this company to someone who can take control of it and run it well. But I am not plunging my hands into the filth. I'm not getting a college degree so that I have a more legitimate claim to the throne of this bloody company. And you can go work for that person if you so wish. At least I won't have to listen to your bullshit anymore!"

"MASTER CALVIN!" Mr Bennett bellowed, seething with fury.

Calvin took a step back in shock. He had never ever seen Mr Bennett raise his voice to such a degree. His old caretaker was simmering with rage at the moment, and despite Calvin's impulse to respond sarcastically, he held back. Now wasn't the time to stoke the roaring flames.

"I'll clean your mess up," Mr Bennett said quietly as his face morphed into the very personification of anger, "But stay out of my way."

Calvin sullenly shuffled out of the room, but not before Mr Bennett called out to him, "When you've pondered and reflected over your words a bit more, I suggest you decide what you want to do with your life. The invitation to Yale won't wait for you forever."

Calvin could just about hear Mr Bennett cursing him under his breath and calling him a disgrace as he ambled about the room cleaning up the coffee table and the spilt drinks. Calvin's heart felt a sharp thud as if someone had just thrown a dart straight down his throat. He betrayed no sign of any emotions, but deep down Mr Bennett's words hurt more than all the scars he bore from the battles in the Underland.

Calvin made his way into his own room and took off his tuxedo which he had especially worn for the interview. He then stripped his shirt off and stared at himself in the mirror.

The physical state of his body had somewhat deteriorated over the past two years. A sudden and very unexpected degree of sloth had gripped him, and he hadn't worked out in months. Not that he gorged himself on food, but if you didn't exercise, then obviously you'd be in bad shape. His hair had grown quite long, and without the hair gel, would have looked worse than a crow's nest. His face looked slightly haggard, worn down by the years of misery, suffering, tragedy and depression. No wonder some called him mature. Apparently he looked the way he behaved in public. There was nothing mature about the way he had spoken to Mr Bennett earlier.

He had to fight down a couple of tears when he thought about his argument with Mr Bennett. He never wanted to let anyone down, especially not the person who was the closest thing to family he had left. But he had lost his cool. Calvin rarely described himself as petulant or bad-tempered, but in this case there really was no other adjective to describe him.

Now the only people he could talk to were the ghosts of his past. Calvin thought he felt a cold, wrinkled hand rest on his shoulder. When he turned around to take a look, he thought he saw the dim outline of Vikus slowly fading away.

Vikus was the ghost who haunted Calvin the most.

He could still see the whole thing, and he did see the whole scene every night in his darkest dreams. Vikus calmly looking ahead as the bullet penetrated his skin and flew through his body. Calvin dropping his gun in shock as Vikus' body slumped forward and hit the ground. He looked so serene, as if he had been finally liberated from the cruel world which had been kept together because of him. Calvin could totally visualise Vikus' body floating down a river with that look of calm surrender on his face.

Calvin reached out with his left arm and brushed his fingers against the scar which was now just as much a part of his body as his eyes and ears. He could still remember the searing pain as the jaws clamped down on his shoulder. He winced slightly as his memory was jolted slightly from the agony.

" _Hope_." Calvin heard the words echo around the room, and the atmosphere instantly became tense beyond words. Calvin's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the perpetrators, but there was none. It was just his imagination. A figment of his imagination. A figment of Vikus.

Calvin shook his head and threw on a t-shirt, before changing into jeans. He grabbed a sweater and slipped into it. Putting on a pair of sunglasses so that he wouldn't be recognised in public, he made his way to the door and put on a pair of sneakers, before entering the bright New York sunshine.

As he strode down the street, he thought about the years that had gone by since he left the Underland. First was the break-up with Samantha. She just couldn't see the relationship working, considering how Calvin mysteriously disappeared for weeks without telling anyone. Calvin then had a fierce argument with her and promptly offended her in the process. This was followed by his poor academic results over the next few months. Sure, he was able to pull through in the last moment and garner a decent grade point average. But that was just about his only success. His fame was not built up by his reputation, but by his father's achievement. All that media blitz had nothing to do with his efforts. And all that media attention was probably a major factor behind his offers for the various colleges.

Calvin saw a couple of suspicious-looking men dressed in black staring at him, as his hand instantly went for his pocket to grab his gun. As he groped about his pocket, he soon realised that he had given them away a long while ago. He looked back at the men in black, but they were just having their own private discussions now.

The Underland had made him paranoid beyond basic caution. Ever since he had left the Underland, his instinctive reaction to possible threats meant a quick movement towards his pocket. These threats ranged from well-dressed men to baby puppies to dingy old Fords. Calvin couldn't trust the world he was living in anymore. He couldn't live in a world which was too safe.

And therein lay his ambivalence towards war. Calvin, on the surface, detested fighting and abhorred any society in which war and death had become second nature. Basically, he violently opposed the Underland's way of dealing with problems. But deep down, the primal hunger for blood and battle lingered on, because the truth of the matter was that he was innately a violent person. He could keep lying to himself, but it wouldn't solve anything. As much as he declared himself unfit for a life in the Underland, he was now struggling to live the mundane life back in the Overland.

Calvin knew he wasn't anybody's typical hero or champion. Neither was Gregor for that matter, or his father. In fact, few people were. They all had cardinal sins, flaws which could undermine everything they stood for. And yet people still looked up to them, like they expected these heroes to become gods and rescue them from their plight of suffering. That was almost never the case. Historical narratives and fictional stories could paint protagonists as good men and women, but in reality nobody truly was a good person.

The sun in the sky began to fade behind the imposing, ominous clouds as the city of New York began to darken. Perhaps this was fate's way of toying with Calvin's reality. The stormy, sinister clouds provided a perfect backdrop and setting for Calvin's visit to the cemetery.

The winds swirled around his feet and leaves fluttered about the place, being tossed around like ragged dolls by the fierce, billowing gales. Mourners in black were beginning to leave the cemetery, as if the graves of their loved ones coupled with the darkness of the skies was too much to handle for them. Calvin suspected his father had chosen to be buried in this simple cemetery so he would be as close to his son as possible, even when separated by the veil of death.

The air was surprisingly crisp and refreshing, something which Calvin actually appreciated considering the heat of his conversation with Mr Bennett. He stopped in front of his parents' graves and just stared.

It had been eight long years since his father passed away and a decade since his mother had succumbed to her illness. Calvin had been an orphan for eight years. Granted he was a rich orphan, but that didn't make the pain hurt any less. And now, standing in front of the graves of the two people he once loved the most, he felt more vulnerable than ever.

As he felt sorrow and pain clench their fingers around his heart, he spoke up in a hoarse voice, "I don't… I don't know what to do anymore. All I ever wanted to do was to make the both of you proud, but I don't even know how to do that anymore. I can't find any purpose or meaning in what I am doing. I'm just going through the motions now."

He sighed before continuing, "I can't trust anyone anymore, because I have no one to trust. There's no more you guys, no more Mr Carter, no more Ripred, no more Lapblood and no more Gregor. I've never ever felt so alone in my life and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to go to Princeton or Yale or Brown or NYU. I don't want to go to any of these places. I don't want to lead _Oberton_ , Dad. I want to be free of all these burdens and responsibilities and to do what I feel is the right thing to do."

He gulped hard and then continued, "I want to make a child in Africa smile. I want to see workers cheer when their rights are restored to them by Zephyr. Hell, I'd rather go back down there and fight a war to save the Underland. But instead, all I can do is to stand on the sidelines and watch the kid in Africa suffer, the workers continue to be abused by Oswald and the Underland obliterated by Operation Claw."

By now, tears were forming in his eyes as the winds became fiercer and howled around him. He croaked out, "Dad, you once wrote to me that it was only through surviving the darkest of nights that we were able to see the brightest of dawns. I've gone through the dark nights, Dad, I swear I have. And yet here I am, talking to your grave in almost complete darkness. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why am I suffering so much? Why am I so lost? Why am I so alone? Millions of people envy my current position, so why am I feeling so afraid?"

The first few tears had begun to trickle down his cheeks. Calvin couldn't hold back anymore. "WHY?" he screamed out loud, frightening a couple of pigeons into taking flight, "I'm not an army! I'm an eighteen-year-old boy! You want me to serve the freaking Underland? I FREAKING DID IT! I saved the whole bloody place and it's still going to be destroyed. I come up here to run away from my demons down there and now I have to watch people in the press take a freaking piss on me!"

Now, the tears were freely cascading down his face. "IT WAS JUST TO MAKE YOU PROUD!" Calvin yelled, "I DID ALL OF THIS BECAUSE I LOVED THE BOTH OF YOU!"

Then he realised what was happening. The skies thundered and big drops of rain hammered the city, pounding its streets with splashes of water. He looked up to the sky. This was just a repeat of his conversation with Mr Bennett. He was just screaming at a wall. None of them could do anything. Not Mr Bennett, not his mother and not his father.

Calvin didn't know whether his face was wet from the rain or tears anymore. He threw his sunglasses on the ground and cursed, "DAMN IT! Damn every single freaking person on this freaking planet! I just wanted to make a better world. Where did I go wrong? Why is it people have died because of me? Why is it people have suffered because of me?"

he had too many questions and too little answers. The ghostly apparition of Vikus seemed to hover near a dead tree on the right side of the cemetery, and Calvin thought he could see Erik, Hadrian, Gnasher, and Temp all standing on the other side of the cemetery. It was as if all the people who had died before Calvin's eyes were returning to mock him.

"I feel like I've been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders," Calvin said wearily, "I really do. Mum, Dad, I'm collapsing because of it. I can't take any of this shit anymore. Even after giving up all the fighting, I can't rest in peace like you guys. I wish I could. I wish I was dead."

His words were punctuated by a thunderous crash as the rain soaked through his sweater and t-shirt. "I shouldn't have yelled," he murmured, almost taken aback by how heartbroken he sounded, "I lost my temper with Mr Bennett earlier and now I'm losing my temper with you guys. My world is falling apart. If you're looking down on me from heaven, and if there is a God, please ask him to help me. Please ask him to save me. I can't fight on for much longer. There's no worse feeling than hoping you never wake up when you go to sleep."

Thunder boomed in the distance again. "I don't want to let you all down. But I know I have. I've let the Underland down, I've let Mr Carter down, I've let Hecate down, I've let Gregor down, I've let Samantha down, I've let Mr Bennett down, and worse of all, I've let the two of you down."

As lightning streaked across the sky, he stared at the graves of the two people who once meant the world to him. Nothing of them remained anymore except for a couple of tombstones. "Mum and Dad, I don't know how else to say this, I'm sorry for being a failure. I'm sorry for letting you all down."

He didn't know what to say anymore.

So he slowly sank to his knees.

And wept bitterly.

* * *

 **Hope this chapter was fine for you guys. Obviously we're picking up where we left off with Calvin in the last story, so for those who were afraid that he won't be featuring prominently, fear not! Calvin's just as important in this story. I've used this chapter to try and show how his character has developed in the absence of Gregor and the Underland. hope you liked my interpretation of things. It's taken me more than a week to produce this chapter, and I'm sorry about that. I've had a lot on my plate and I hope normal service will resume.**

 **Oh, and do continue to review my story please! Favourites and follows are also welcome.**

 **Question: What are your thoughts towards Calvin's plight? Tortured young man or whiny brat? Let me know all your thoughts in the reviews section please!**

 **Fly you high!**


	3. Chapter 3: Black Death

**Hi everyone! Of course, I'm extremely grateful for all of your reviews that came in over the past five days or so. It's very encouraging to see readers of my previous stories returning again. So here goes- thank you to: TheGreatAthlon5, Alpha Death, A happy reader, FierceDeity24, Thiazzie(welcome back!), SlyIntellect, HumanicHedgeHog, MyNamesGorger, darklord(welcome back!) MarbleSky, 1977(welcome back as well!), Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander(welcome back too!) Please continue to review my story. As you all probably know by now, I appreciate reviews the most.**

 **On another note, favourites/follows are of course, much appreciated as well.**

 **Anyway, to all new readers of my story, Ripred's personality in this story won't be exactly identical to the one from the original series, but hopefully you'll be fine with it. I've decided to make him softer and slightly nicer in his old age, but I tried to retain his sarcasm, dry humour, intelligence and wisdom. I advise that if you haven't seen my two previous stories, you read those first before reading this one. It'd probably make the experience much better.**

 **This chapter(for the first time ever) is written from Luxa's perspective!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Black Death**

"How many of them, general?" she asked.

"A small army," Perdita told her, glancing nervously over her shoulder, "Our scouts have estimated a total of two hundred schemers approaching the eastern bank. The nibblers have already evacuated the area and our soldiers are in position."

Luxa sighed softly and looked ahead at the serene bank as the water gently flowed down the Waterway. Soon, the pure and unadulterated white of the stream would be stained with the red of blood. This was the first schemer army or battalion spotted in the past two years. The occasional schemer was caught now and then, but this was no mere schemer. This was a full force, bred by Flavius to wipe out most of the species in the Underland and establish a hegemony over the remaining weaklings. The ruthless cunning of the schemers was perhaps their most deadly asset, considering how one-dimensional and even weak-willed the Regalians were.

Except, of course, the rat who was sauntering into view.

"My favourite bond didn't invite me for a hunting trip," Ripred drawled with his usual condescending sarcasm, "I feel so betrayed."

"I am your only bond, you fat gnawer," Luxa replied sharply, "And this is no mere hunting trip."

"You called me a fat gnawer?" Ripred asked, feigning shock and surprise, "How deplorable, coming from the sole monarch of Regalia!"

Luxa shot Perdita an accusing glare, and asked through gritted teeth, "Why did you inform him of our little… hunting trip?"

Perdita looked ice-cool as she responded stiffly, "I apologise, your Majesty, if I have offended you with my actions. But seeing as this was a battle against the schemers, I saw it fit to invite Regalia's high general and best fighter."

"I am high general of Regalia but not its best fighter," Ripred pointed out, "Not anymore, at least. Where is our dear Warrior?"

Luxa narrowed her eyes in irritation as she replied, "I don't know where he is. He will come when he decides to come."

"You two sleep in the same bedroom," Ripred said with a wry grin, before quickly adding, "Not that I'm trying to insinuate anything. It's just that… you should probably know where he is."

Luxa had to force herself to pin down the rising anger in her chest, or soon she would be impaling her bond with her sword. "Well," she said slowly, as her face flushed bright red from both embarrassment and anger, "The truth is I DON'T KNOW. And that is all."

Perdita suddenly interrupted, saying, "The Warrior's egregious discipline is a source of excuses for my soldiers. With all due respect, your Majesty, I hope that you can influence him to work on his behaviour."

"Like that would work," Ripred snorted.

Luxa gazed at Perdita's stern and unflinching face sadly. A woman Luxa had once looked up to for being strong and kind had abandoned the kindness which was once part of her and settled for the strong. But with Perdita's firm resolve and strength now came a distant coldness to her, as if her military personality had consumed her gentle demeanour as a fire would ravage a house. All Luxa saw in Perdita now was Solovet.

Unable to look at one of her role models in such a negative light any longer, Luxa ordered, "Thank you, general Perdita. You are now dismissed. Organise the troops and prepare for battle."

Perdita bowed deeply and answered, "Yes, your Majesty. Your wish is my command." With that, she promptly made her way down the slope towards the mass of soldiers which was gathering on the western side of the river.

"You're concerned about her," Ripred said softly.

"Yes," Luxa said wistfully, "There was once a time when I adored her, even more than my own grandmother."

"That's not exactly surprising," Ripred said as he rolled his eyes, "Your grandmother truly epitomised the meaning of pain in the arse."

"It was Mareth," Luxa said aloud, ignoring Ripred's comments, "She lost what was left of her humanity after Mareth died. She has never gotten back on her feet since."

"They were very close friends," Ripred agreed, "Some rumours about the nature of their friendship persisted for a while."

"I thought it was no longer a rumour," Luxa told Ripred honestly, "I thought it had been confirmed as the truth."

"That's the problem with you humans, pup," Ripred sighed, "You let a rumour float around for so long that it suddenly becomes part of your identity, and that identity becomes truth. I never sniffed any romantic love between the two of them. They were just very close friends. Not like you and…"

"That's enough!" Luxa snapped at Ripred sharply, "You will not talk about my relationship with Gregor in front of anybody else ever again."

"Someone's grumpy," Ripred observed with amusement, "It's not like you have anything to hide. Everybody knows that the Warrior sleeps in your room. The attendants haven't even bothered to go to his designated room to call him for breakfast. They always go to YOUR room. I wonder why?"

"So he's in my room," Luxa conceded, "So what? Two people cannot stay in a room together?"

"Not when one of them is the unmarried queen of Regalia," Ripred replied with mock disapproval as he shook his head, "Need I remind you that the guards have spoken of certain noises coming from the room at night? I'm sure that-"

"That IS ENOUGH," Luxa stated firmly, "This conversation ends here and now."

Luxa almost regretted saying those words instantly. An awkward silence ensued as they stared ahead at the calm rivers of the Waterway. She was aware of Ripred stifling his laughter as he bit down on his lower lip, but she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of seeing her react. Deciding to change the subject quickly, she quickly said, "Perdita currently reminds me a bit of Solovet."

"Again, not surprising," Ripred said with a shrug, "She always adored Solovet. How anybody could idolise that woman is simply beyond me. I mean, she is an amazing general, but apart from-"

"Quiet!" Luxa snapped impatiently, "They're coming!"

One of the scouts had a look of consternation on his face as his flier rocketed back towards the army. He called out, "They will be on the eastern bank within five minutes! There are easily more than two hundred of them!"

"I'm assuming that's more than we expected," Ripred said grimly as hushed murmurs broke out among the Regalians. Luxa herself was fairly anxious. She hadn't mobilised the entire army out of fear of causing too much panic in Regalia, but now she might have just condemned the Regalians to an ignominious defeat if the schemers proved to be too much for them. A victory against the schemers would send out a powerful message and leave Flavius with plenty to think about. But a defeat here would be a huge blow against their hopes to keep Flavius at bay for as long as possible.

"Why such a large army?" Luxa wondered aloud, "Why would Flavius even send a small force to challenge our forces here?"

"My dear Luxa," Ripred said in that snarky tone of his, "This isn't an attempt to challenge you at all. I've been trying to decide how to break this news to you, but I guess I'll have to spill the beans for you now."

He cleared his throat, before telling her, "You've fallen right into his trap. And all because you didn't dare to trust anyone with this information, most of all me."

"What do you mean?" Luxa asked as she looked perplexedly at Ripred.

"Isn't it obvious?" the old rat sighed exasperatedly, "He's fighting a political battle with you at the moment and he is CLEARLY outwitting you. Just ask yourself, dear, what is the nearest city to our current location?"

"The Fount," Luxa answered immediately, before realising her mistake. She slapped her hand against her forehead and cursed herself under her breath. How could she be so unwitting?

"Flavius knows your political situation with the Fount," Ripred said slowly, "Otherwise he wouldn't be making his move so quickly. I'm assuming you didn't tell the Fount about our little rendezvous here with the schemers, did you?"

"This was supposed to be a confidential mission," Luxa responded stoutly.

"Which part of this battle was supposed to remain confidential?" Ripred asked sarcastically, "Did you truly expect York and his people not to notice a bloody battle being fought just a couple of miles from their city? They have eyes and ears everywhere within this boundary, my dear bond. York will know about it by the end of this battle. And he will begin to wonder why he wasn't invited to this party, or even informed about it in the first place despite the fact that it's going on RIGHT OUTSIDE HIS CITY."

She was playing a game of chess against Flavius, and she hadn't even realised she was part of it. He had been moving the chess pieces around for almost two years and was about to reap the rewards of a bold tactical move.

Ripred seemed to echo her thoughts, as he said, "You got to give it to him for making such a calculated decision. He was probably hinging on you being a distrustful person and not telling anyone but Perdita about this army. And it takes balls to sacrifice more than two hundred soldiers just to hurt the political alliances of your enemies."

"York may not take any offence to not being informed," Luxa said hopefully, "Perhaps he will not see anything wrong in our decision-making. We can always offer an excuse later."

"Let's be brutally honest here, Luxa," Ripred sighed again, "Your relationship with the Fount has been nothing but fractious and a farce over the past year. If not for the fact that you are his niece, he would have declared war on Regalia a long time ago, thanks to your horrendous sense of diplomacy."

"Regalia is not responsible for the wellbeing of the Fount," Luxa insisted, "We can barely afford to rebuild our own city, and yet they expect us to compensate for their own damages? We weren't responsible for that."

"Thanks to Conrad, I don't think that York necessarily agrees with your point of view," Ripred said with a chuckle, "It WAS your ex-husband who allowed the schemers to ravage all these cities in exchange for his own personal safety."

"It is true that we do not see eye to eye," Luxa admitted, "But that should have no bearing on the relationship between both cities. We are like siblings."

"Even brothers and sisters go to war against each other, your Majesty," Ripred said darkly, "And of course, there is the issue of the rebel gnawers as well. There are rumours circulating that they have made a pact with the Fount and they intend to exert some kind of pressure on Regalia."

"Then we will impose sanctions on the Fount," Luxa responded calmly, "Setting up a trade embargo should be sufficient. The nibblers would rather offend them than us, so we can expect them to adhere to our terms. As for the Fount, that will be a warning to them not to try our patience."

"I would love to discuss politics with you all day," Ripred said earnestly with a hint of his trademark sarcasm, "But I am very afraid that we have more pressing issues at hand." His tail shot up immediately, and he pointed the tip at an emerging mass of schemers on the eastern bank.

The brutes casually strolled into view, but never once broke formation. At the head of their army was a grizzled green-eyed schemer, who looked like he was a veteran of previous wars. "Who would their leader be?" Luxa asked Ripred.

"Gaius," Ripred answered tersely.

"That is a name I have heard, but I am not familiar with it," she confessed.

"Not many people know him, but based on what our scouts have been hearing, he's the new second-in-command to Flavius following Brutus' death in the battle of Regalia," Ripred told her, looking more tense than she had ever seen him in a while, "They call him the Bloodthirsty General. Some say that Brutus is like a pup compared to him."

"Anything else about him I should know?" Luxa asked, already starting to feel worried.

"He's not exactly a good fighter," Ripred said emotionlessly, "But he is undoubtedly more cunning than your average schemer. He's fought his way up the ranks to get to where he is today. It takes a combination of ruthlessness and intellect to make your way up from the bottom rung to the top in the hierarchy of the schemers' army."

"How do you know so much?" Luxa inquired.

"I've been talking to Gorger," Ripred said, staring ahead at the army of schemers, "He knows a lot about the inner politics within the schemer army."

"Is it something we can exploit?" Luxa questioned.

"Not the time for this discussion, love," Ripred replied, "Gaius looks like he is itching to say something."

The schemer surveyed the armies standing before him, and his eyes wandered up the slope to meet with Luxa's. Luxa steeled herself and locked her facial features in position. This wasn't a time to show vulnerability- the colder she appeared to be, the better. Gaius needed to know that he was up against a hard person.

But there was just something about his gaze that made her feel nervous and seemed to disarm her. She was instantly repulsed by that schemer and she felt the need to get away from the scene. He looked so… sadistic and twisted, more so than any she had ever laid her eyes upon. Gaius seemed to smile at her reaction, and he gave her a quick wink before speaking up, "This wasn't the welcome I was expecting!"

The schemers suddenly burst into raucous laughter, guffawing away as the Regalians looked on with indifference. The soldiers of Regalia were trained not to show any emotion, but Luxa wouldn't have blamed them if they showed the slightest sign of fear. The schemers were, at the moment, the very embodiment of chaos and evil. They cackled away gleefully, and Luxa was already extremely intimidated.

"WELCOME TO HELL, THEN!" Ripred shouted back. The schemers instantly stopped laughing, and Gaius looked up at the old rat.

"Tell me, Lord Ripred," Gaius called out, "Why does Regalia suddenly come out to intercept our diplomatic mission?"

"Your battalion is on a diplomatic mission?" Ripred chuckled out loud, "And I thought Brutus was insane!"

"It is a diplomatic mission, Lord Ripred!" Gaius responded sincerely, "We are here to discuss a possible alliance with the Fount!"

An involuntary gasp escaped Luxa's lips, as the rest of the Regalian army began chatting away excitedly, shocked by Gaius' revelation. "QUIET!" Perdita barked, and the army lapsed back into silence.

"Come on Gaius," Ripred replied scornfully, "You can't expect to deceive anyone with such sub-par bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, Lord Ripred," Gaius persisted with his stance, "We truly are here on a diplomatic mission. Do you honestly think that the schemers would send such a small number to fight a battle against the Regalians? Do you honestly see us as such stupid creatures?"

"Well, there's a first for everything," Ripred replied with his usual aura of confidence and self-assuredness.

"Not today, I am afraid," Gaius sighed, before saying, "We were hoping to avoid any kind of bloodshed, but seeing as you are so eager to confront us in battle, we shall satisfy your thirst for our blood." He let out a deafening howl, and the rest of the schemers howled back in unison. They were relatively small in number, but that howl gave an impression of a determined and fearless army, which was not good news for the Regalians.

"What's your plan?" Ripred asked abruptly.

"What?" Luxa asked back, caught slightly off-guard by his question.

"You do have a plan, right?" Ripred asked impatiently, his face starting to betray hints of nervousness, something which Luxa was unaccustomed to seeing in the old rat.

"Yes," she answered simply, before asking, "What is with you? I have never seen you so nervous in a long time."

"Something is amiss," Ripred said frustratedly, shaking his head in confusion, "Something has gone wrong and I can't quite seem to know what it is. I really am getting old."

The schemers began a slow advance forward, with the first few wading into the Waterway while the rest held back with admirable patience and discipline. But Luxa wasn't here to admire the schemers. "General!" she yelled, "Begin the assault!"

Perdita shouted back, "Yes, your Majesty!" before turning to the soldiers.

"Archers!" she hollered, "Volley!"

A whole line of archers strung their arrows to their bows and aimed at the schemers, who were starting to pick up the pace as they travelled across the river. "FIRE!" Perdita screamed, and the archers unleashed a stream of arrows at the schemers. Most of the arrows fell short or proved to be ineffective, but the message was clear as one of the arrows embedded itself in the eye of one schemer. The Regalians were not going to take this battle lightly.

Gaius bellowed, "CHARGE! FOR FLAVIUS!" The schemers looked like their leash had just been snapped, as they poured forward with even more purpose than the water rushing down the Waterway. With wild eyes that hinted at the mad fanaticism which gripped them, they unleashed a spine-chilling howl as they barrelled towards the western bank. But Luxa was unfazed by their sudden rush. Perdita knew how to handle this situation.

"NOW!" the general called out urgently. There was a deep groan coming further up the Waterway, and Luxa smiled as she heard the sound of rushing water draw nearer and nearer.

"Not bad," Ripred said, looking impressed for once, "You built a dam further upstream."

"Indeed we did," Luxa said with a cocky smile, "You are certainly not the only one in this army with a brain."

The water hungrily raced down the Waterway, spilling over the schemers and engulfing them. The currents slammed into the schemers and sent them flying off their feet, with the rushing water carrying the schemers further downstream as they thrashed about violently. Even if they didn't drown in this chaos, the currents were strong enough to carry them far away from the scene of the battle. An ideal scenario for the Regalians had been fulfilled.

"If you had planned to unleash this rushing water on them earlier, why did you look so worried, pup?" Ripred wandered with an unorthodox innocence in his tone which Luxa was unaccustomed to.

"Because I knew that even catching the schemers off-guard wouldn't have even won us half of this battle," Luxa explained grimly.

True enough, the schemers had regrouped quickly and more than half of them had escaped unscathed. They gathered around at the eastern bank, prowling about restlessly and waiting for the ideal moment to launch another assault. "Perdita, are they within range of our arrows?" Luxa asked.

"No, your Majesty!" Perdita answered, straining her voice so that Luxa could hear what she was saying, "We have no choice but to wait for them to attack!"

"Damn it," Luxa cursed. As the ferocity of the waters began to subside quickly, Gaius' eyes lit up.

Once again, Gaius and Luxa locked gazes. This time, Luxa was determined not to flinch, but she felt extremely uncomfortable when staring at him. This schemer radiated pure malice, and Luxa found it revolting and almost frightening when she realised how cruel he was. His eyes told her the full story.

"NOW!" he roared suddenly, simultaneously breaking and heightening the tension. The schemers burst into a sprint across the tamer waters, shrugging off any of the lingering currents which sporadically rippled down the Waterway.

"ARCHERS! FIRE!" Perdita yelled, and the archers began launching arrows at will. But with the schemers tearing across the Waterway so quickly, there was only so much damage the archers could do.

"FLIERS! INFANTRY!" Perdita screeched. The infantry, comprising of gnawers, nibblers and humans, rushed towards the stampeding schemers. The fliers, with humans and gnawers riding on them, swooped down towards the schemers. Some of the rats dismounted in mid-flight, hurling themselves off the fliers and into the thick of battle, while the fliers flew near enough to the schemers for the humans to draw out their swords and slash at the schemers.

It was a pure spectacle of chaos.

Luxa was uplifted by the scenes of Regalians fighting together, but couldn't help but feel her heart sink when she saw them fall at the jaws of the schemers. One schemer bit down on a gnawer's spine, incapacitating it instantly before tossing it down the Waterway, while another schemer sprang into the air and snagged the wing of a flier, before hauling it to the ground and mauling it. Two schemers were combining to devastating effect of the right wing, swinging their claws and decapitating half a dozen humans.

Those casualties were all someone's brother or sister or father or daughter, and even Luxa, who had been hardened by the loss of her parents, felt a sharp pain right through the centre of her heart. They were her people- it was HER duty to take care of the Regalians. But this… this was a necessary sacrifice, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach.

A leader should always remember the names of their dead followers. But there were too many names on the wall of her memory for her to remember.

Thankfully, the battle looked like it was coming towards a straightforward conclusion. The number of Regalians were, for once, overwhelming the number of schemers. Perdita had thrown herself into the mix as well, hacking down schemer after schemer as the Regalians ruthlessly launched unrelenting attack after unrelenting attack on the schemers, who had been quickly boxed in and surrounded by the Regalians. The archers were adding to the pandemonium by shooting down some of the schemers who just limped about helplessly, watching their comrades being slaughtered all around them. The retaliation was fierce, but no match for the Regalians. They were killing schemers with blinding anger and ferocity, which Luxa assumed was retribution for the battle of Regalia. This was Regalian vengeance on a whole new scale.

Within a couple of minutes, almost every schemer who was fighting on the western bank was dead or maimed. The rest had fought their way out of the heap of bodies and retreated back towards the eastern bank, with Gaius looking on with what seemed to be mild amusement.

Luxa heard Ripred muttering to himself, "Something is wrong, something is wrong", but she chose to ignore it. Ripred was long past the peak of his intelligence and abilities. She was more willing to trust her own judgement than to trust his. "General Gaius, was that all you had to offer?"

Gaius replied with a grin.

Luxa was beginning to feel uneasy. The schemers were known to be uncompromising in their pursuit of perfection, but this… Gaius' apparent indifference verging towards pleasure in their rout must be unprecedented in the history of the schemers. The schemer finally spoke up and said, "We were supposed to be on a diplomatic mission which has been turned into a battle. I'm just pleased that the Underland got to see who the real tyrants were."

"We never wanted to fight," Luxa said firmly, "You had the option to return back to your home with your tails literally between your legs. Unfortunately, you chose to fight us and saw yourselves overrun in the process. If there is any tyrant on the battlefield today, it is you, Gaius."

"I may be inclined to agree with you," Gaius said slowly, "But who said we were overrun? It's not like we didn't expect this confrontation, anyway."

Luxa was still trying to get the implication behind his words when she heard a second deafening howl. She turned to her right and saw another battalion of schemers charging headlong into the Regalian army. "I knew there was a catch!" she heard Ripred gnash his teeth in frustration, "I could smell their bloody scent!"

Perdita was desperately trying to reorganise the Regalians as wave after wave of schemers raced straight into the Regalians from the right. "They outflanked us!" Luxa spat in anger as she pulled out her blade,"The battle with Gaius was a distraction to buy them time!"

"I can see that!" Ripred retorted furiously as he stared on at the battle. The Regalians were being swarmed and their entire formation was in bits and pieces. Ripred yelled a profanity before throwing himself down the slope and into battle, before performing his usual rager spin which Luxa could barely see.

But through all the fighting, Luxa could only see one thing- yet another Regalian loss. She cleared her throat, preparing to bellow the command to retreat. There was no way the Regalians could achieve victory, unless…

Just then, she heard one of the Regalians scream, "HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!"

Everybody's head swivelled around to look in Luxa's direction, but she knew they weren't staring at her. They were staring at someone behind her.

A massive shadow passed over her figure, and right in front of her eyes everybody in the battle suddenly seemed so minuscule compared to the behemoth which descended towards the fighting. The flier was heavily armoured, and riding atop it was a man dressed in complete black, carrying a sword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. Attached to his armour was a black cloak, which added another level of intimidation to his already fearsome appearance and stature. The flier flew close to the ground, and the man in black leapt off the flier and landed on both feet with a resounding thud. The schemers immediately backed off a few steps, some of them even trembling as a new wave of fear paralysed their forces. The figure in black tilted his head upwards. His visor didn't show his eyes, but everybody knew that he was staring intently at the schemers, waiting for them to make the first move.

A slight wind drifted by, causing his cloak to flutter slightly. While the schemers seemed fixed in position, the rest of the Regalians quickly reorganised their formation. The schemers, realising this, shrugged off the fear that gripped them, and a number of them began inching away.

Then the figure in black spoke, "You have five seconds to get away from here."

Five seconds crawled by as the schemers' eyes darted between Gaius and the Warrior. Luxa almost felt sorry for the dilemma they were in. Either way, the consequences weren't good.

Then the Warrior spoke up, "Your time is up."

Without any other warning, he flipped into the air and landed in the middle of their battalion. His sword flashed through the air, and all Luxa could see was red EVERYWHERE. The schemers, panicking instantly, tried to fall back, but Perdita yelled, "ATTACK!" and the Regalians stormed forward, engaging the schemers in battle again. Ripred was fighting all on his own on the right flank, but he didn't seem particularly uncomfortable. He was spinning away gleefully, and Luxa could have sworn he was laughing as he fought the schemers.

But Luxa had eyes for only one soldier on the battlefield. Gregor was a tornado, spinning and ravaging his way through the schemer battalion and leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. One schemer tried to surprise him from behind, but with reflexes that Luxa rarely witnessed from him, he spun and blocked the attack with his dagger, before impaling the schemer with his sword.

Two more schemers lunged at him from his right, but again he was too fast. He sprang into the air and swiped his sword, severing the backbone of one of the schemers while throwing his dagger, which embedded itself in the eye of the other schemer.

The moment he landed, three schemers were charging towards him, but he barely looked fazed. His hands instantly became a blur, parrying and blocking a whole series of attacks launched against him in quick succession.

Then he launched his counter-attack.

He slashed the throat of one of the schemers, dousing his black armour in blood. He then pretended to attack one of the schemers, before his sword wickedly changed direction in mid-attack and sliced off the snout of the other schemer. He then proceeded to lop off the limb of the schemer he had pretended to attack initially, before impaling it in the head. The snoutless schemer staggered forward and tried to slash at him, but he beat its strike aside with little fuss and promptly stabbed it in the throat. The schemer died gurgling on its own blood.

One schemer suddenly slammed into him, sending the both of them spiralling across the undulating terrain. As they tumbled around, Luxa saw Gregor quickly jab upwards, stabbing the schemer in the heart. He then got up slowly and dusted himself.

Luxa suddenly had her heart in her mouth as a schemer charged at him from behind. Gregor spun around with blinding speed and swung his blade, taking out both its eyes and stabbing it between what was left of its eyes. But another schemer crashed into him, knocking Sandwich's blade out of his hands and causing the both of them to fall and sprawl out across the ground.

Once again, Gregor was the first to recover and strike first. He swung his foot at the schemer, landing a heavy kick against its right cheek and knocking it back down on the ground. The schemer then snapped at his legs, but he danced out of the way just in the nick of time as its jaws clamped down on nothing but air. The schemer then leapt to its feet and swung its right paw towards him. Gregor ducked underneath the swing and gripped hold of the fur on its limb, before pulling so hard the schemer was yanked towards him and thrown off balance. He then lashed out with a savage kick between its eyes, causing it to go limp.

A group of schemers clearly sniffed out his vulnerability and began sprinting towards him. Luxa's heart slammed against her chest harder than ever as she could hear the thump with her very own ears. "GREGOR!" she screamed.

But with superhuman strength which seemed closer to being impossible than possible, Gregor lifted up the unconscious schemer with his bare arms.

He lifted a schemer up.

Luxa couldn't believe what she was witnessing. With a roar of adrenaline, Gregor hurled the schemer at the group of schemers. The body slammed into them, disrupting their charge and sending them into disarray.

Gregor then quickly sprinted over to retrieve his sword, before recovering to swing his blade and block a schemer from striking him. He then retaliated with a series of feints, before jabbing it in the eye. He followed up by inflicting a large gash on the schemer's left flank, leaving it screaming as it died in pain.

But Luxa had seen enough. Gregor was being far too careless in this battle, and if he wasn't careful, he was going to pay the price for it. She mounted up on Aurora and Aurora took off flying into battle.

Gregor himself had sprang back onto Apollo's back and was now switching his fighting style, choosing to let Apollo get close to the schemers before taking them out with his blade. Gregor suddenly took the notion of "reckless" beyond its original meaning by wrapping his legs around Apollo's body. He then dangled upside down from Apollo, and began to fight schemers…

Yes, he was fighting them upside down.

He parried a couple of swipes, before thrusting his blade into the head of one schemer. He followed up by swiping his blade through the air, and somehow, somehow, either by sheer luck or skill he decapitated a schemer while still dangling upside down.

Luxa didn't know whether to be astounded or frightened.

Apollo then took a quick stop next to a dead schemer, giving Gregor the opportunity to retrieve his dagger from the schemer's eyeball, and that was where Luxa had her heart in her mouth for the second time in quick succession.

A pair of schemers were quietly but swiftly making their way towards him from behind, with Apollo unwittingly angling his body in a position in which Gregor was vulnerable.

Luxa had to act, or the love of her life would be taken away from her in front of her very eyes.

With a shrill battle cry, Aurora burst forward with vigour, closing the distance between Luxa and the schemers. The schemers turned to face Luxa, and their temporary shock was the distraction Luxa needed. She flipped through the air and with the most delicate of touches, pricked the jugular veins of both schemers, as she had been practising for months. Blood immediately surged out of their wounds like the flood which consumed their comrades earlier, and once again Luxa capitalised on their distraction to slit their throats quickly. Blood churned out of their wounds even as they lay there dying.

Luxa looked up to find Gregor staring at her in amazement. Then his hand suddenly jerked up and he pointed at something behind her with his sword. "LUXA!" he yelled.

Luxa spun around and coolly blocked an attack from a schemer. With the calmness and assuredness she typically exemplified as queen, she kept her cool and parried another couple of attacks, before slicing off its right limb. With the fox essentially defenseless, she dug the tip of her sword under its chin and exerted force upwards, killing it in the process as the blade ran right through its lower jaw, upper jaw and finally through its brain.

"You shouldn't be here," Gregor said disapprovingly to her.

Luxa gazed at the forms of the retreating schemers as they organised a quick retreat across the Waterway, running past Gaius and into a series of dark tunnels. Gaius gave one last cold stare before joining his fellow schemers, turning tail and retreating into the distance. Despite the surprise assault they had launched, they were still outfought and outthought by the Regalians. "I don't need to be a rager to protect myself," she replied coldly, "And a 'thank you' would suffice."

"You are the queen of Regalia, Luxa," Gregor said angrily, "You have to think of your people."

"Maybe I wouldn't have flown into battle if YOU were capable of defending yourself," Luxa pointed out, "The schemer would have killed you had I not intervened."

"That's not true," Gregor said defensively, "You know I had it covered."

All Luxa expected from Gregor was _some_ gratitude _sometimes_. Was that really too much to ask?

"Clean up the mess of bodies here," Luxa commanded Perdita, "Collect the bodies of the casualties and prepare a funeral ceremony in the arena. I want to honour the dead who lost their lives in this battle."

Finally, she turned to Gregor and said, "You and I will continue this discussion back in Regalia."

* * *

 **There we go! That's chapter 3. Like I said earlier, this is the first time ever we have a chapter from Luxa's perspective. I hope you enjoyed it, because I certainly did! I sincerely intend for this story to further develop the relationship between Luxa and Gregor, as the last story was more focused on the relationship between Gregor and Calvin. I know there are many Gluxa fans out there, and I hope to satisfy your thirst for Gluxa with this story.**

 **If you are skeptical about Gregor's ability to lift a whole fox up, I personally feel it's entirely possible based on the concept of hysterical strength, which is the ability to achieve superhuman feats based on sheer adrenaline. Of course, if you have any other comments on this, do let me know!**

 **Question: What do you think of Gregor's style of fighting? Did you like his entrance into battle? And what is your opinion on Luxa's behaviour towards Gregor at the end of this chapter? Let me know all your thoughts in your reviews.**


	4. Chapter 4: Gorger

**Hi everyone! Thank you for all the fantastic reviews that have come in this week and please keep it coming! I love to know the thoughts of my readers. So here goes my thanks to: AresTheUnderlander(I pronounce Luxa the way it's pronounced in the book), Clytuis, A happy reader, MarbleSky(I did promise Gluxa), attack on underland(cool research you did!), shadowofdarkness, Alpha Death, pyro159, Darklord, Myname(welcome back!), SlyIntellect(glad you like the portrayal of Ripred!), HumanicHedgeHog, FierceDeity24, 1977, Joefinch(welcome back too!), .taylor(nice to meet you!), Thiazzie and TheGreatAthlon5.**

 **Anyway, I received an anonymous review for my second story saying I had butchered Gregor's character. So I am genuinely concerned that I have messed up Gregor's character in my series. In your reviews, would you be so kind as to tell me if I butchered him and if I did, how so? If I really have screwed Gregor up, I'd like to apologise to you guys for it.**

 **Oh, and Gorger makes his appearance in this chapter. I know many are wondering how in the world he survived, but all in good time. I won't reveal it in this chapter but soon you will learn of his backstory leading up to this story.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Gorger**

"Come on," Gregor sighed, "Will you just talk to me please?"

As it had been for the past half an hour, Gregor was greeted with a wall of silence. Luxa fiddled with her blade expressionlessly, as if Gregor had ceased to exist in her world.

He shifted about uncomfortably on Apollo as he tried to fight off the effects of the oppressive silence. Nobody dared to come within twenty yards of him and Apollo, with the exception of Luxa and Aurora, of course. It seemed as if Luxa had triggered some kind of scent that warded everybody away from him and her like they were lepers or they reeked of a bad stench. Apollo drifted out wider slightly, so that Luxa was out of earshot, before saying, "We should probably stop trying out all those moves we practised in the arena."

"Agreed," Gregor replied with a soft groan, "She's so… particular, over what I can and cannot do."

"It is not just that, Warrior," Apollo purred, "She fears for your life. In all honesty, the two of us take far too many risks. Before I met you, I used to train with the other soldiers, and it was nothing like what we are doing now."

"That must be unbearable," Gregor quipped.

Apollo swivelled his head around and shot Gregor a grin, before replying, "It was not all that bad. My life was not in jeopardy so often, and I actually felt safe. Of course, when it comes to whether I had fun or not…" He deliberately trailed off, and the both of them chuckled.

"I don't like arguing with Luxa," Gregor remarked casually to Apollo following a minute of silence, "She always wins in the end, whether I'm right or not."

"No surprises there," Apollo said simply.

"And this isn't the first time we're arguing about the way I fight," Gregor continued, "We just had a quarrel last week over our antics in the arena."

"What, you mean setting fire to the dummies?" Apollo asked with a devilish smile, "Surely she did not berate you for that, did she?"

"She did," Gregor told him with yet another groan to punctuate his speech, "That's my reward for adding some spice to life down here."

"Spice to life?" Apollo wandered, clearly confused by the figure of speech.

"It's a turn of phrase back in the Overland, I think," Gregor explained, "It means to make something interesting. At least that's what I think it means. I flunked English a couple of times back when I was up there."

"Flunked?" Apollo questioned aloud.

"Never mind," Gregor sighed, "I don't need you telling the whole world I flunked English."

"We definitely made life more interesting last week," Apollo commented, ignoring Gregor's earlier statement.

"Mmm," Gregor mused, "Didn't save me from being scolded by Luxa though."

They shared yet another chuckle, before Gregor asked, "How's the armour?"

"It is certainly something I am not used to," Apollo answered truthfully, "But it will be a useful asset once I practise with it more often. The armour allows me to take more risks when diving into close quarters fighting. And it is not too heavy either."

"How's my cloak?" Gregor asked, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious.

"It looks VERY good, Warrior," Apollo told him, "I do believe that our enemies have one more reason to fear us."

"My cloak is a reason for them fearing us?" Gregor questioned incredulously.

"Do not underestimate the power of appearances, Warrior," Apollo replied softly, "Appearances can decide the fate of the Underland. They can decide whether we go to war or end one. They can decide who sits on the throne of power and who must be sacrificed. Appearances are almost everything down here."

Gregor mulled over Apollo's words quietly. The power of appearances was what shaped the world, not just down in the Underland but up in the Overland as well. It was how you presented yourself that determined whether politicians got elected into power, or whether you got a promotion in your company or a scholarship to go to college. Appearances determine who your partner is, who is willing to trust you and who is your ally. Unfortunately, everybody lives in such a superficial world which dictates the fate of so many people based on appearances. It was always about style over substance. And as much as Gregor hated it, that was the brutal truth which could not be denied or changed.

The menacing shadow which loomed over them as they flew through a series of caves quickly began to disperse reluctantly, as they emerged from the tunnels into the fields of Regalia which stretched for miles, running all across the plains which had become a feature of this great city. The city of Regalia stood proudly in the distance, brimming with its own glory. Despite the damage which it had suffered from in the battle of Regalia, it had recovered at an awe-inspiring rate, which resulted in its stable condition then. Gregor's statue, still a symbol of hope for this city, stood up tall. The graffiti had been erased like poison being drawn from a wound, and any damage it suffered during the battle appeared non-existent.

The bats flew past the wall and landed in the arena, where the humans quickly dismounted and made their way to the barracks to clean up. The dead were placed side-by-side in the arena, as paramedics quickly rushed forward to tend to the wounded. Gregor cast a long, wistful look at the dead soldiers. Too many comrades had suffered at the hands of the foxes. Far too many.

He made his way over to Luxa and said simply, "You said you wanted to talk."

Luxa glanced up at him, and her expression softened slightly before returning back to its stoic structure again. There was no place for affection in public when it came to their relationship, despite how rumours about their relationship had intensified over the past few months. If Gregor was once a figure of controversy, he was now a living embodiment of the word. "We are going to speak to Gorger," she replied matter-of-factly.

The two of them strolled out of the arena, aware of the fierce gazes being drilled into their backs by the soldiers who watched them leave. "People are going to talk," Gregor said aloud, echoing his thoughts and probably her thoughts too.

"It does not matter. It never has," Luxa replied superciliously, "Let these fools talk."

Gregor just grunted, before asking, "So what are you going to scold me for now? Last week it was the dummies. What is it going to be this time?"

"Firstly," Luxa began, "Perdita has claimed that your discipline is atrocious and that your misbehaviour is puerile. Based on my own personal experience, I am inclined to agree with her."

Gregor rolled his eyes, before saying, "You must be kidding me. Seriously, that woman runs this show like Solovet once did. The army needs people like me so they don't end up killing themselves. You have no idea what it's like hearing her scream every day. It'd make a perfectly sane dude go mad within a couple of weeks."

"So you are somehow the hero of the army?" Luxa inferred, "You are the one who has _liberated_ everybody from suffering?"

"I am what keeps this army balanced," Gregor replied defensively, "Every hero needs a villain. Light needs darkness. Even God needs the devil. There can be no success without balance."

"Interesting analogies," Luxa admitted, "But that is not how the army works. We are at war, Gregor. This is no time for jokes and fun. The reason why Perdita is in this position of power is because she recognises the need for us to be vigilant in such dire times. We are vulnerable, Gregor. You would be a fool not to see through our economic success the failures of our social stability. One attack is all it takes for this city to collapse. Remove one brick and the whole structure comes crashing down. That is truly how fragile we are."

Gregor hated it whenever Luxa resorted to addressing him like she would address an ordinary Regalian. He, of all people, was no ordinary Regalian. But being a "mere" Overlander meant he had to hold back from lashing out at Luxa too much, and this time was no different. He bit down on his tongue gently to prevent himself from bursting into a furious tirade. "That's not the real reason you wanted to speak to me," Gregor guessed, "What is it?"

"You came late," Luxa said accusingly, "Where were you? I told Apollo to call you to join us. Instead, I had to put up with Ripred all ON MY OWN."

"We had a detour," Gregor admitted sheepishly, "We went to investigate what's left of Hades' Hall to make sure that they weren't trying to divert our attention away from a real attack on Regalia. I only arrived just as Gaius' wing rampage began."

"Our scouts had ALREADY confirmed that," Luxa sighed in exasperation, "We needed you at the battle to drive the schemers away. Did you see how frightened they were when you first arrived? Can you even fathom the number of lives we could have saved if you arrived earlier? The schemers would not have dared to engage us had you been more disciplined. Instead, I HAVE TO ANSWER FOR MORE THAN THREE DOZEN CASUALTIES!"

Her outburst took Gregor by surprise, but Gregor decided not to show her any sign of weakness this time. "Why am I being scolded for trying to protect Regalia? I didn't know you had scouts down there. I went there to make sure that the people who truly mattered back in Regalia were safe. So don't give me any of that rubbish that-"

"YOU JUST HAD TO FOLLOW ORDERS!" Luxa interrupted him furiously, "You and Apollo were supposed to report to me before the battle. You are first and foremost a soldier of Regalia. You have an obligation to follow our orders, and not behave any way you like just because you are the Warrior. Stop being selfish-"

That was it. It was his turn to shut her up Gregor was done being abused by her day and night. "SELFISH?" he roared, "SELFISH? I DON'T OWE ANYTHING TO THIS CITY! NOTHING AT ALL! I AM AN OVERLANDER, NOT YOUR PERSONAL SLAVE!"

Everybody down the street who heard him exploded popped their heads out to see what was going on, before quickly ducking their heads back into their homes when they saw who was involved. Gregor gave some of them who continued staring a look of disgust before turning to Luxa and saying, "I will fight and even die for this city. But don't for one second think that I have an obligation to this city."

Luxa flushed a bright red and she looked like she was about to flare-up and lock horns with him in a big fight, but much to his surprise, she actually held back. "Alright," she replied with a deep breath, "I accept your explanation, but we aren't even close to being done yet. You still have to explain your actions back in the battle. You know very well as I do that you were FAR too reckless back there. You know deep down that you needed me to step in and save you."

"Look, I get it. I'm sorry for being so arrogant back there," Gregor replied calmly, as his anger slowly dissipated, "I should have been much more careful."

"It's more than that," Luxa continued, and Gregor felt his heart sting when he heard her voice crack, "Do you know how… how scared I was? I thought I was going to lose you for a moment. How would you feel if I reversed our roles? Could you bear seeing me fly into battle like that and come so close to death? Could you?"

Gregor dipped his head in shame. So this was what Luxa was upset about. "I'm sorry Luxa," he replied sombrely, "I really am. I swear you won't have to feel that way again. I SWEAR."

Luxa nodded calmly, although in truth she still looked visibly shaken. "Don't ever put me through that again," Luxa demanded fiercely, "We need each other. We live as a couple and die as a couple. I don't care what the circumstance is, but neither of us should have to go through the pain of living life without the other."

Gregor afforded a small grin as he said, "For sure, Luxa. Just make sure you won't do the same to me."

"Please," she snorted, "I'm not that stupid. And next time, show more gratitude. I saved your bloody life and you still have the cheek to tell me you had it covered."

Gregor gazed at her for a while. This was the woman who defined his life the moment he entered the Underland. She was the reason behind his love, his fighting, his grief and his suffering. She was, to him, just as much a staple in his life as the air he breathed was. It broke his heart to be away from her, and it fulfilled so much in his life just to be near her. It wasn't childish infatuation all those years ago when they took that picture.

It was love.

"Thanks, Luxa," he said gently. They stared into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds, feeling an emotional embrace in each other's presence as if they had connected on a much higher level.

Then Luxa broke her stare and cleared her throat, before saying quickly, "We have someone to visit."

She burst into a brisk walk as she made her way through the congested street vessels in the main body of Regalia. People shot them the occasional glance, with some even looking on at them with disapproval, but Gregor actively chose to ignore them. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him react.

Luxa rounded a corner and right in front of them stood the rebuilt prison of Regalia. Its once sickly face was replaced by the more stoic, cleaner appearance which greeted Gregor right now. The walls were still grey, but a dark and angry grey, rather than the worn down grey it originally was. This building radiated discipline and even fear. Exactly what Gregor thought was necessary for a prison to look like. Imposing and oppressive, not like the dilapidated, ramshackle building it once was.

The guards bowed their heads in respect as Luxa and Gregor entered the prison, as both of them uttered a soft "Your Majesty" in greeting to Luxa. The atmosphere became heavier, as if the evil which hung in the air was too heavy to dissipate and lingered on in the darkness, lurking closer and closer to Gregor and Luxa. They strode down a couple of corridors, before meeting another couple of heavily-armed guards in front of a lift- the only underground lift in the whole of Regalia. It was similar in design to the original lift outside the palace, but appeared to be much sturdier, which was a relief for someone like Gregor who was terrified of heights.

A cold shiver ran down his spine as the guards nodded their heads wordlessly as Luxa approached the lift. The silence might as well have been sinister laughter. Gregor swallowed nervously and got onto the lift with Luxa. One of the guards pulled a lever and the lift began to descend, taking them to the most heavily guarded prison cell in the whole of Regalia. Besides Nerissa's room, of course. Gregor always light-heartedly joked that Nerissa was practically trapped in a metaphorical and literal prison, with her room constantly being watched by guards, but Luxa never really appreciated that facet of Gregor's crude humour.

The lift creaked down and gently stopped at what was ironically the most impregnable location in the whole of the Underland, considering how happy the Regalians would be to have the scumbag residing in this cell be killed by external forces. But Gregor, as much as he hated the rat, knew that he was necessary to Regalia's survival. Whether Luxa shared the same belief as him was an entirely different story. "The Underland of the Underland," Gregor mused aloud to himself. Luxa glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Luxa and Gregor got off the lift, where they were greeted by half a dozen guards this time. "Is he awake?" she asked the guards.

"Yes, your Majesty," one of them replied, "Based on how he is pacing back and forth, I suspect he has known for a while that you have intended to make this visit."

Luxa nodded slowly, before ordering, "Bring us to him."

The guards escorted them down the corridor and opened a series of heavily-built doors which were adorned with locks of all kinds. Finally, they heaved against a double door and led them into a large room. The room's lack of colour or design contrasted greatly with the intricate prison design outside, as it was just white on all four sides of the rectangular prison. Gregor's eyes quickly settled on the silver rat slouched against the wall, whose body posture indicated casual indifference. But Gregor knew better than to read the silver rat's body language. He looked at the rat's eyes, which told almost the whole story. He had been waiting for them for a long time. The hunger and relief in his eyes was evident. His face instantly twisted into a cruel sneer, and he slowly rose back onto his feet to reveal a muscular six-foot frame.

"Gorger," Luxa snarled, unable to keep the disgust and loathing out of her voice.

"Luxa," Gorger said simply in greeting, before turning to Gregor, "And the Warrior. The inseparable power pair of Regalia. Why do I suddenly have the fortune of being able to speak to the both of you?"

"Leave us," Luxa said through gritted teeth.

The guards instantly bowed their heads and left the room, but not before one of them said in warning, "Your Majesty, please be careful. He may be chained, but he can still jump far enough to harm you. We've marked out the maximum distance he can leap on the floor. Please do not cross that marker or your safety will be compromised." With that, they left the trio alone.

Gregor glanced at the faded marker on the ground. The scratch marks that had scraped off some of the paint was not encouraging at all.

"I wouldn't touch a hair on your head even if I could," Gorger said with a haughty smile, "You are much too precious for that."

"Like you didn't touch a hair on my parents' head?" Luxa seethed as she brandished her sword.

"Luxa," Gregor said softly. Since she first found out Gorger was still alive, Luxa had never lived a day by without cursing Gorger and damning him to hell. And Gregor wasn't blaming her. He was the rat who had brutally assassinated her parents, after all. Gregor knew for a fact that if he were in her position he wouldn't have been forgiving at all- Gorger would probably be languishing in hell if Gregor had been on the receiving end of losing his parents to the twisted rat. But she had to keep her emotions in check. Her relationship with Nerissa had already deteriorated to a point which was appalling, just because Nerissa had invited Gorger to return to Regalia and had made him the most important member of the Regalian community. Gregor genuinely feared for Luxa's psychological well-being whenever she was around Gorger, which was still as rare as trees in the Underland.

"You should listen to the Warrior," Gorger said almost reproachfully, "Speaking of which, why the cloak? Starting to become self-conscious?"

"Shut up," Gregor snapped back.

Gorger just grinned and replied, "You can't fool me. I can smell everything. Your insecurity, your impending arrival into this prison and of course, the argument you had recently."

With a look of gleeful amusement, he chuckled at the looks of alarm on Gregor's and Luxa's faces, before adding, "You humans. You always seem to forget the true power of smell we gnawers have. You both reek of anger and animosity, and a little bit of love. Must have been quite some argument, wasn't it?"

"We're not here to engage in small talk with you, Gorger," Luxa said, getting straight to the point and ignoring his jibe, "We want information from you about the schemers. Tell us what you want in exchange for this information, and maybe we can grant you what you need or want."

"I have already undergone that exchange of information," Gorger replied as he slouched against the wall, "I have exactly what I need for now. I know about your relationship with the Fount, the dissatisfaction with an established system of monarchy and of course, the rebel gnawers who are rallying under the name of the Bane."

How did he know so much?

Gregor was utterly speechless. Somehow, somebody had fed the bastard information without permission from any authorities and under the noses of the guards. Luxa seemed unfazed, though. "Who disclosed this information to you?" she asked Gorger calmly.

"I did," came the reply behind them.

Luxa and Gregor turned around to see Ripred entering the cell as well. "I had to," Ripred explained, "It was the only way to coerce vital information out of him. Clawsin's scouts had reported disturbances near the plains of Tartarus. I couldn't wait to get your approval on my actions."

"You should have consulted me first," Luxa shot back, unable to keep the anger and frustration out of her voice.

"This is just lovely, you know," Gorger said with relish, "The three pillars supporting the crumbling roof which is Regalia, all turning on each other in its most urgent hour. You have no idea how close you are to teetering over the edge and falling to your doom. You are all on the brink of death."

"How? What do you know?" Luxa pressed.

"Enough to change the course of this war," Gorger answered, "But only if you cede to my demands."

"I thought you claimed that you already have what you need," Gregor pointed out.

"I did," Gorger admitted, "But that's not what I want."

"We have already spoken about this," Ripred replied with an edge in his voice, "I have said no."

"Peace Ripred, let him speak," Luxa said firmly.

"I know that you are fighting a war with the rebel gnawers. You should be aware by now that they have united under the same cause- to complete what the Bane started. They are driven by ideology, not a leader. Do you know what that means?" Gorger asked.

"It means they are indestructible," Ripred replied softly, "You may destroy their army, but as long as the ideology remains, the threat will persist. They worship the Bane like a god and savour his words like a dogmatic set of beliefs is fiercely adhered to by a cult."

"That's what they are," Gorger agreed, "A cult. The only way you stop this cult is if you get them to unite behind something else, or in this case, someone else."

"What are you trying to say?" Gregor asked warily, aware that he was treading in very dangerous and murky waters.

"In exchange for information about the schemers, I want you to put me in charge of the rebel gnawers," Gorger responded with a smile, "I kill two birds with one stone and all of us stand to gain. I get rid of the cult for you and you get vital information in saving your city."

"No deal," Luxa replied immediately, "I don't trust you. Giving you power is the last thing I will do. We can release you, but putting you in charge of those gnawers is our last resort."

"You're scared I will strike back at you with these gnawers under my command," Gorger deduced, "And I'll be very honest with you- When the time is right, we will go to war against Regalia, whether I am alive or not when that happens. But you don't have much of a choice. Either you postpone Regalia's possible annihilation by accepting my terms, or you face a definite destruction if you choose to be so stubborn, Luxa."

"Even if we wanted to give you such power, it is not in our control," Ripred replied, "You know what our brothers and sisters are like, Gorger. They will not bow down before you just because you are alive again."

"Oh, but it is in your control," Gorger told them, "I'd like to point out that should you defeat the rebel gnawers in battle, you are in control of the surviving gnawers who have surrendered. Which means that instead of taking prisoners, you hand them over to me and let me bring them back to the Dead Lands. How does that sound to you?"

"Many Regalians will not take a liking to this," Luxa realised, "They already want you to be executed. And if we give you your power back… that's almost as good as high treason."

"Sometimes we all have to take risks and make sacrifices," was all Gorger said in response.

"Think about this carefully, Luxa," Ripred growled, "The last thing thing you should do is listen to Gorger and take his word as the truth."

"Ah, Ripred," Gorger sighed, "Still the same deceitful bastard I knew all those years ago."

Ripred ignored Gorger's words and said to Luxa, "Your power as a monarch is already waning. A move like this could be fatal. Trust me, please."

Gregor knew that Luxa would hate to admit it, but Ripred was right. Conrad's tyrannical and oppressive rule had already sowed seeds of doubt in the Regalians' minds about how much power a monarch should possess. And Luxa's relationship with Conrad only suggested that she was just as capable of abusing her power. If she let Gorger go without consulting the people, things could get really messy.

The power struggle in Regalia had not yet begun, but Gregor had already heard rumours about a possible coup. The Council was also rumoured to have intentions of somehow ousting Luxa out of power and making Regalia a republic, which blurred the line between enemy and ally even more for Gregor. Was he fighting for Regalia or fighting for Luxa? Was he the Warrior or the queen's bodyguard? Hero of Regalia or champion of Luxa? The political fog surrounding him had blinded him to his own sense of morality and purpose- was he in the Underland to save Regalia or be with Luxa? A storm was brewing, and with so many friends dead and gone, Gregor had no idea whose side he was going to take.

And just as he was facing this dilemma, he knew Luxa was facing her own dilemma. "What's stopping me from ordering your execution?" she asked Gorger abruptly.

"Nothing," Gorger replied, "If you want to kill me, it really doesn't matter. That's the problem with you pups. All of you subconsciously believe that you are immortal and infallible, when in reality you are just as vulnerable as the rest of us. I've already accepted that my death is inevitable, whether by your hand or another. I know that one day, my name will just be a faint whisper in a light breeze floating through the Dead Lands, but it will never be anything more than that. So kill me, because I truly do not care."

Luxa stared hard at Gorger for a couple of seconds, before saying, "If I accept your proposal, will a legal contract and letter be enough to appease you? Do you want anything more than that?"

"Swear on the graves of your parents," Gorger responded with a sly grin.

The flames of hatred which were shining brightly in Luxa's eyes were beyond anything that Gregor had ever seen in her. Gorger was mocking her parents indirectly, but she was being forced to bite the bullet and dishonour her own parents in the process. Gorger may have been the one physically in chains, but Luxa was the one who truly had her hands tied up. This was beyond difficult for Luxa to accept. This was the most bitter pill she would ever have to accept.

"I will consider your offer," Luxa replied bluntly to Gorger.

"Damn it Luxa!" Ripred spat furiously, "Think this through! You're going to give him what he wants?"

"Do not speak to me in that tone, Lord Ripred," Luxa answered coldly, "Considering you were the one who first gave him what he wanted without my authority. We will handle this privately."

"I gave him information he couldn't use," Ripred countered, "You are giving him the power to use that information!"

"That is enough, Ripred!" Luxa shouted at him, "Leave this prison NOW!"

Ripred's facial expression quickly turned from raging fury to bitter coldness within the span of seconds. He shot Luxa a dark glare before trodding out of the cell. Gregor saw the guards try to lead him out, but Ripred shot them an angry hiss and they quickly backed away from him. Gorger chuckled softly to himself.

"QUIET, WRETCH!" she yelled at him suddenly, causing Gregor's heart to burst into a short sprint.

Gorger just winked at her before closing his eyes and settling down on the floor. Luxa instantly turned around and left the cell, leaving Gregor on his own. Sighing aloud to himself, he turned around to leave the room.

"Warrior."

Gregor turned around once again to face Gorger, who had opened his eyes. "What is it?" he asked Gorger icily.

"Isn't it so poetic?" Gorger mused, "You and me, back here at square one. Back then, I was the veteran fighter who was superior to you. Yet here you are, the superior one, carrying the sword of Sandwich and wearing this black armour. How do you think our story will end? Do you think fate will lead us to make the jump together again?"

The final line of the prophecy of Gray suddenly appeared in front of Gregor again.

" _As life may be death, and death life again reaps"_

Who really died in that jump?

Gregor just stared at Gorger in the eyes. This was his first nemesis. The enemy who had stolen his father from him and changed his life forever. This was the archenemy who possibly single-handedly decided the course of Gregor's life. The pain, the sorrow, the love, the success, the friendships… All attributed to the rat lying in front of him with a deranged smile.

So Gregor, unsure of what to say next, said what instinctively leapt to his lips.

"Run like the river, Gorger."

* * *

 **Hope you liked this chapter, reintroducing a character from the original series. I've always imagined that Gregor and Gorger would experience a special kind of relationship if they both somehow survived past Code of Claw. Gorger, as you probably know, didn't get much character development in the first book of the original series, so I tried to do him and Suzanne Collins' justice here by portraying him as a manipulative, cruel and devilish demon from Gregor's past. I hope you liked it and the conversation between both Gregor and Apollo and Gregor and Luxa.**

 **Of course, favourites and follows are much appreciated, and of course so are reviews.**

 **Question: Did you think I butchered Gregor's character in my series(read my foreword if you want to know the context)? And how many chapters from Gregor's POV would you like to see in this story?**

P.S. Did you spot the reference to Sandwich in this chapter?


	5. Chapter 5: Falling Apart

**Hello everyone! Life's been busy in the build-up to Easter for me, and I'm pretty sure it's the same for some of you. But during such a turbulent week, I'd like to extend my thanks to all those who reviewed my story: FierceDeity24, A happy reader, TheGreatAthlon5, Darklord, Clytuis, Randonfire, HumanicHedgeHog, .taylor, 1977, Ssi'ruuk, MarbleSky and pyro159. Please continue to review my story!**

 **So here we go. Not much action in this chapter- I'm using his chapter to establish the setting for the coming conflicts. Granted I am not sharing the whole background, this is still an essential chapter in setting up certain events, alliances and possible battles. So please read this chapter carefully, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it!**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Falling Apart**

"All you had to do was ask!" Luxa yelled at Ripred.

"You know just as well as I do that you would have stopped me," Ripred snarled back, "Because you've become just as drunk with power as Conrad was. You can't bear to share it with anyone else!"

"Would you guys just cut it out?" Gregor sighed in frustration.

They had gathered in the war council room, which hadn't seen any life in months. Following Conrad's departure, the demand for transparency had let to meetings being held in the Council hall so that the Council was under the intense scrutiny of the public to make sure that nothing was done under the table without the approval of the Regalians. Luxa may have hated this situation, but her position as monarch was as fragile as a kite floating about in a thunderstorm.

So here they were, breathing life back into this room quite literally. Luxa was outraged at Ripred's decision to go behind her back and leak out information to Gorger, while Ripred was sick of Luxa's insistence on taking matters into her own hands without consulting him. This was just the end of the War of Time all over again. Ripred versus Luxa. The two most arrogant, stubborn leaders in Regalia choosing to lock horns over the amount of control each of them had with both unwilling to retreat or back down from their stances.

Except this time, Gregor wasn't in the mood to go around breaking a sword he had broken eleven years ago just because they were bickering again.

"You deliberately disobeyed my orders to leave that dirtbag in solitude," Luxa accused Ripred while ignoring Gregor, "You even committed high treason by divulging information to him. What's stopping me from having you arrested?"

"Oh yes please, go on and arrest me," Ripred spat back, "Throw your strongest political ally and your bond behind bars, because that will definitely protect you from the storm that's coming your way. Just don't forget to kneel and beg for my help when it reaches you."

"Keep pushing your luck, gnawer," Luxa retorted, "You think I don't have the resolve to destroy you and the rest of your miserable life? Think again. The only reason you are still alive is because of my mercy. You have been at my mercy for the last decade of your life."

"You choose to threaten me now," Ripred said, nodding his head slowly, "When you need support the most. The rebel gnawers have destroyed two nibbler colonies east of Regalia. The Fount will be at our gates soon, demanding an explanation for our battle against Gaius. Flavius' strength grows as each and every day goes by. Vikus and Mareth are dead. Your own people want you to abdicate- the same people who once adored your name and sang songs about you. You only have Gregor and me left. Which queen in her right mind would even dare to threaten one of their last two allies in the face of disaster?"

"You don't know this queen," Luxa replied, "She will tear down all who stand in her way."

"You are confusing me with your enemies, Luxa," Ripred growled, "All I have ever done this last decade has been for the good of Regalia. I could have jumped ship anytime and left you to ride the waves alone. But I've stayed on to help you. Is this how you repay those you are in debt to?"

"I must be a just leader," Luxa insisted, "I punished those who betrayed the crown and committed treason. Even if you were the most important figure in Regalia, I would still have you arrested for your crimes. The law must be obeyed in every circumstance, whether we like it or not."

"Then you are a fool," Ripred replied bluntly, "The survival of this city can never take a backseat to the barbaric laws it insists on upholding. We don't even have the ability to uphold the law if we don't even have basic security. The only way we get that is by acting above the law."

"Nobody is above the law except for me," Luxa stated simply, "I am the law. My word is final, and you know that, Ripred."

"Then you are not just a fool, but you are deluded as well," Ripred snarled, "You saw what happened to Conrad and now it's happening to you too. You have so much power in your hands that you can't bear to see someone else in control of power. You've become just as insecure as he was!"

"Don't compare me to him!" Luxa yelled, "I am nothing like him!"

"You've become too powerful for your own good!" Ripred persisted, "Don't do this alone, Luxa. You can't handle the incoming forces on your own. You might hate the truth, but the truth is that you will need all the help you are going to get!"

"Not from you," Luxa said coldly to Ripred, "Get out of this room now. Prepare to be arrested by my guards."

"You've become nothing more than a reflection of your husband. You could have been so much more than him, but you've settled for less," Ripred replied brutally, before walking out of the room.

The moment the doors closed behind him, Luxa slumped down on a chair and let out a huge sigh. The blood in her face seemed to be drained away as Gregor saw beads of sweat gather around her forehead. Luxa looked like she was struggling to balance the burden of managing Regalia on that petite frame of hers. Her shoulders sagged as if she was feeling the very weight of the task slowly crushing her.

"You shouldn't have said that to Ripred," Gregor said honestly, "He wasn't lying when he said that we need him."

Luxa closed her eyes and whispered, "Not you too, surely?"

"We can't afford to lose Ripred, as much as you hate him," Gregor told her, "For all his faults, he truly cares about saving this city, even if he doesn't care much for you. If you arrest him, we're on our own."

"So be it," Luxa replied, "If I do not arrest him, he'll think that he can continue working behind my back. I cannot allow that kind of power to go unchecked."

"He's probably thinking the same thing," Gregor pointed out, "He feels that he needs to be the check and balance against the sheer amount of power you have. You guys need to start trusting each other."

"Easy for you to say, Gregor," Luxa replied icily, "Your parents were not killed by his kind. As unique as Ripred is, no gnawer can be trusted. They always have the most devious of intentions and cannot be trusted."

"I can't believe this," Gregor said aloud, voicing his deepest and most honest thoughts to Luxa, "You bonded with him all those years ago as a show of trust and respect. Now you're gonna go to war against him because he's a gnawer?"

"He broke the law, Gregor," Luxa explained, "I cannot pardon him, or that will weaken my position as a monarch, the position he is supposedly trying to defend. Regalians are fickle- they will pounce on any opportunity to enact change, even if that means tearing me to pieces. I cannot give them that opportunity."

"You are forgetting one very important detail," Gregor pointed out, "Only the three of us know about Ripred's indiscretions apart from the prison guards. As long as we can handle those guys, the city will never even hear about his little rendezvous with Gorger."

"You underestimate how fast information travels around Regalia, even after all these years," Luxa said slightly condescendingly, "I wouldn't be surprised if people have known about his actions for a long time and are waiting for the right time to use it against me. If I don't take him down now, I risk losing any credibility left as monarch."

So this was the true meaning of being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"I'm not trying to change your mind," Gregor replied sympathetically, "I just want you to consider the other side before you do anything."

"You think I have not?" Luxa asked sarcastically, as she let loose another defeated sigh, "Arresting Ripred also has its political consequences. I know the backlash I am going to face from the gnawer community if I go ahead with this decision."

"Delay the decision," Gregor suggested, "Don't announce it right away. Get the Regalians to focus their attention on something else and then wait to see what's the right thing to do."

"Easier said than done," Luxa answered, "I have no idea how to carry on managing this city, Gregor. Sometimes I just want to escape and run away from it all- the politics, the wars, the deaths, the grief, the hate… I want to go somewhere with you and just live there in peace. Just you and me with nothing to worry about and the whole world ahead of us."

"Sounds like a plan," Gregor said with a wistful smile.

Luxa's disconsolate expression quickly faded away and was replaced by the hardened, authoritative features of a queen who knew no fear. "The arrest of Ripred is one matter. Gorger's plan is another," she reminded Gregor.

"Don't take the deal," Gregor said immediately, "He's CLEARLY trying to manipulate you. Giving him too much power and control over the rebel gnawers is like…" He paused as he struggled to find a simile.

"Like returning a blade to a battle-starved rager?" Luxa suggested innocently, but the slight hint of mocking in her tone had not gone unnoticed.

"Look," Gregor said slowly, "Unless he does this on our terms, we're not going to come out of this deal with any kind of satisfaction. Gorger is as sly a negotiator as we're going to get. We need to think this through carefully."

"I have!" Luxa insisted, "If we get information from Gorger, we can possibly coerce him to lead the rebel gnawers into battle against Flavius. Think about it Gregor, we can forge an alliance!"

"An alliance with the rebels?" Gregor said incredulously, "They'll backstab us! They'd rather fight for Flavius then fight for us!"

"But what if Gorger can reign them in?" Luxa said hopefully, "What if they listen to Gorger like they listen to the Bane? He can convince them to fight against the schemers, can he not?"

"Gorger isn't stupid," Gregor reasoned, "He'd definitely choose to side with Flavius against us. All he wants is his power back, Luxa. We cannot agree to anything he suggests because it is always going to favour him!"

"But we can get him to sign a contract," Luxa pressed, "Then he cannot go back on his word!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Gregor said in frustration, "Can you hear what you're saying? Gnawers are deceitful bastards- you said it yourself! So what if there's a contract? You'll go to war against him? That's exactly what would happen anyway, with or without that contract. So why are you going ahead with Gorger's suggestion? He'll go back on his word because that is what he does best! That's what happened to Henry!"

Oops. Gregor had now just stepped down on another sensitive topic, which was sure to trigger an explosion from the time bomb in front of him. Luxa's eyes were alight with rage once more, and this time she hissed, "Don't you DARE mention Henry again, or you'll find a comfortable spot next to Ripred in prison."

But Gregor was sick and tired of backing down in this relationship. It was far too exhausting to bear the brunt of the tongue-lashing and nagging he got from her. "Is that a threat, your Majesty?" he asked coldly, as he loomed over her.

Luxa was up in a flash as she sprang to her feet and stared into his eyes. Even though she as more than just a couple of inches shorter than him, Gregor didn't feel like he was towering over her at all. In fact, he felt as if they were both at an equal height as they engaged in the fiercest staring contest Gregor had ever been involved in. Within seconds he was already feeling exhausted of staring at her. It wasn't healthy for the soul to look upon the love of your life disdainfully as if she was a crippled leper.

But it was Luxa who broke down first. Gregor thought he caught a glimpse of a tear in her eye as she quickly turned her back and walked out of the room in the most placid manner he had seen from her in a while.

For a few seconds, he stood there dumbfounded and stumped by what he had witnessed. Luxa hadn't just physically walked out on him… He felt as if metaphorically speaking, she had just walked out of their relationship. Stunned by that possible revelation, Gregor stumbled backwards, before sliding into a chair as he stared into space.

"You look like you could use some company," Ripred said as he trotted into the room, before closing the doors behind him.

"You were listening all along?" Gregor asked, still slightly traumatised by Luxa's actions.

"No," Ripred answered, "But I was loitering around the corridors. And once I saw Luxa leaving this room, I figured you two had gotten into another argument. Not unusual for a couple so close, mind you."

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating the last couple of hours, before Gregor broke the silence.

"Was it ever supposed to work out, Ripred?" Gregor wondered mournfully, "Was I ever too low-class for her? Or too independent for her? Or too different from her?"

"Stop whining and moaning," Ripred snapped, "Of course you're different! That's what makes a couple special, because you two are different. You will always have your fair share of disagreements, but that doesn't mean a relationship has failed. It's because of you that she's returned to being the strong leader she once was. I didn't recognise the Luxa who was married to Conrad. She was always sulking and tame and boring. I had to resort to arguing with that clown Conrad in order to keep myself entertained because she wouldn't say a word at meals. You made her great again."

Gregor looked at Ripred in surprise and remarked, "You actually complimented me. You said I made Luxa great again."

"Don't bother thinking so highly of yourself," Ripred snorted, "You're still a pathetic pup to me. Although… in all honesty, as much as I hate to admit it, you really did help Luxa return to who she was supposed to be."

"I don't think we can ever marry each other, though," Gregor pointed out, "The people are already starting to doubt me because I spend too much time in her room. The soldiers I talk to all say that the people are afraid of me becoming king. And especially with Luxa's position as queen coming under scrutiny right now… I don't know, Ripred."

"Oh please," Ripred replied, rolling his eyes, "Cry me a river. You're worried about marriage? Marriage is an outdated institution back in your world. Why are you suddenly so concerned about it here?"

"I'm not sure," Gregor said shyly, "Maybe it's because I want people to recognise me and Luxa as a true couple."

"Recognition may not always be the best thing," Ripred advised him, "You attract far too much attention and you make yourself a possible target for assassination attempts."

"Hmm," Gregor responded, "That's true. But back on topic, how long do you think it will take before she makes up with me again?"

"I don't know," Ripred replied with a shrug, "Depends on how the both of you handle it and perceive it. Can we stop with the girlfriend questions now? It bores me."

A sudden realisation dawned upon Gregor. "You didn't come here to spend time with me," he said slowly, "You came here for other reasons."

"Oh dear Sandwich, you're daft," Ripred responded, "It took you ages to realise that. Did you really think I came here to gossip with you like the women at the market every morning?"

"So what do you want to talk about?" Gregor asked, slightly irritated by Ripred's irreverent tone towards his relationship with Luxa, "I'm not staying here if you're going to insult me all day."

"Allow me to explain this in great detail," Ripred said, getting straight to the heart of the conversation, "You know that Luxa has been losing her credibility as queen for months already, and that the Fount is steadily becoming unhappy with her. I suspect York will launch a delegation to speak to Luxa about her conduct as queen and to renegotiate the terms of their current alliance. If Luxa doesn't reform and change, things WILL escalate and I am sure that York himself will come down to meet her. Knowing Luxa, not only will she not change, but she will confront the delegates over Gaius' allegations that they attempted an alliance with the Fount. And of course, Luxa will try to punish them for allying themselves with the rebel gnawers."

"I thought that was just a rumour," Gregor remarked.

"It's true, you stupid boy," Ripred sighed, "Obviously neither party wants to admit it yet, but the rumours seem to fit the observations of our scouts. Clawsin's scouting group has spotted Bloodclaw speaking to York on numerous occasions."

"Who is Bloodclaw?" Gregor asked, confused by the unfamiliar name.

"You must live under a rock," Ripred said scornfully, "He's Bloodblur's brother and was one of the main revolutionaries back when Regalia was in schisms and factions. So anyway, my point is that the Fount will be under heavy pressure by Luxa to dissolve their alliance with the rebels, which will result in the Fount going to war against Regalia because that's what York has anticipated all along. Even if they weren't planning to ally with the schemers, the damage has been done. Our political alliance has been all but destroyed and within a month, I assure you that we will be at war against the Fount. It will be us versus them. The nibblers, the crawlers, the spinners, the diggers and the fliers will all have to choose sides. It will be a bloody civil war, and we would have just played right into the hands of Flavius and Operation Claw."

"Why are you telling me this and not involving Luxa in this discussion?" Gregor questioned.

"Because she cannot know what our plan is," Ripred said quietly, "The only way we can avoid this bloodshed and unite the Underland against Flavius and Operation Claw once more is to defeat either York or Luxa. Both of them hold the key to the Underland's survival, and we must take it from them forcefully."

"That's not true," Gregor disagreed, "We do it like we did last time. Show the Underland that if we do not unite, the foxes and Operation Claw will overrun us."

"Unlike us," Ripred explained, "The schemers and Operation Claw have learned from their mistakes. They are willing to play a very patient game, and it begins by pitting the two largest armies in the Underland against each other. And when the dust has settled, whoever wins will only have achieved a pyrrhic victory because that is when the schemers and Operation Claw will swoop in and destroy what is left of the Underland. They will not show their hand until they are sure that the game has been won. Then they will throw all their chips in and victory will be theirs."

"Then we surprise them," Gregor recommended, "We launch an assault into the Dead Lands."

"My bollocks, you really ARE slow and stupid," Ripred said in mock surprise, "That's been our plan all along. But Gorger won't give us any information, something which I've been trying to extract out of him all this while without losing anything important along the way. I have never been closer to breaking him, Gregor. He's so close to cracking under me, and Luxa just had to swoop in like a hero and reduce all my months of hard work to nothing but irrelevant trash."

"There must be another way you can break him," Gregor commented, consciously deciding not to address Ripred's harsh remark about his intelligence level.

"I wish," Ripred sighed, "But there really is no other way. I've thought about it. And to add insult to injury, our dear queen Luxa has elected to arrest one of her most precious allies out of spite."

"I won't talk about your arrest," Gregor said instantly, "I've gotten into enough trouble with her as it is, and I have no intention of being some kind of mediator for the both of you."

"That's not important," Ripred replied, "What's important is how we go about handling Luxa. She's become far too greedy with her power and she has no idea what to do with the sheer amount of power in her hands. She might have once had Vikus to guide her and act as her mentor, but now that he's dead she's starting to feel the raw temptation of abusing the power currently in her hands. There is no one left to check her, Gregor. It's just me against her."

Gregor didn't bother responding. He could tell from the agitation in the way Ripred fidgeted that he was on a roll, and Gregor had no intention of slowing him down. "But since I'll be arrested soon," the old rat continued, "Someone else has to continue in my stead and act as that check against her. I'd like to think you are capable of that, but you do have some kind of vested interest in allowing her to have power because of your relationship with her. So that leaves me with one last option- to bring her down just before she brings me down."

Gregor immediately tensed up. This was the kind of conversation that could get the both of them in deep trouble. The old rat taking the queen of Regalia. The devil versus the deep blue sea. Gregor didn't want to imagine who was what, but he knew that this was the moment which would come back to haunt him. Even after breaking his blade all those years ago, it was always going to come down to a power struggle between Ripred and Luxa. "We never had this conversation," he said tersely.

"We never did," Ripred agreed, "But don't worry. If anybody comes close, I will have warned you by then. I can sniff their scent if they come close."

"I'm still not entirely comfortable," Gregor replied with a shrug.

Ripred leaned forward and snarled, "This is important, Gregor. Our future depends on whether you are on board with this plan or not."

"Don't force me to choose between you and Luxa, Ripred," Gregor told him, "Because I won't."

"Just hear me out and stop behaving like a drama queen, will you?" Ripred snapped in exasperation, "The plan is for me to propose to York and the Fount to force Luxa to undergo an election. The first glimpse of democracy in the Underland."

"Democracy here?" Gregor said in shock, "Are you sure we are ready for that?"

"I've been reading your books, Overlander," Ripred reasoned, "No country or city is ever truly ready for democracy. It just comes when it comes and that's that. Same thing here in Regalia. I'll suggest that the Council and the delegates from the different cities and species get together to vote on whether Luxa stays as queen or not. That way, if she gets voted out of power it will be through legitimate means and not because a coup forced her out. We want to do this with as little fuss and violence as possible. If she gets voted to stay in power, then there's not much else we can do. But if she is voted out, which is highly likely… then we can form a republic in her stead."

"You want to destroy Luxa's authority?" Gregor asked incredulously, "Are you out of your mind? You just said she's your ally!"

"She has become far too powerful for herself!" Ripred argued, "I'm protecting her from herself. She's making far too many enemies and the only way to keep her alive is to remove her from the throne!"

"You don't know what you are doing," Gregor warned, "You could start a war by forcing her to abdicate."

"Don't lecture me on what to do and what not to do, Overlander," Ripred retorted, "There's a saying back in the Overland, isn't there? 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely'- John Dalberg-Acton, I believe. You do know who that is, don't you?"

Gregor just shook his head sheepishly.

"You are truly hopeless," Ripred sighed, "Look, my point is that if we allow absolute power to fester in Regalia, whoever sits on that throne will abuse it. Gorger did it, Conrad did it and now Luxa is falling down the same dark path. And if she continues to abuse her power, her enemies will far outnumber her allies, which is probably the case right now."

"What makes you think that the Fount will back down and support us if Luxa abdicates?" Gregor inquired.

"The Fount has been beaten to a pulp over the years," Ripred explained, "They want to ally themselves with Regalia but they can't at the same time, because they know Luxa will always favour the interests of Regalia over the Fount. But if Luxa abdicates, that will be our peace offering to them. The new republic established will consist of some representatives from the Fount, and that will be more than enough to satisfy them because now they have a say in how the Underland is governed and run."

"I hope you don't plan to drag me into this mess," Gregor remarked concernedly, "I'm not going to vote for either side."

"No," Ripred replied firmly, "You have no choice. The people see you as a symbol and a hero, so your opinion cannot be neglected or overlooked. Because of your relationship with Luxa, voting against her will restore your reputation and send a message out that we are willing to make a compromise. Then we take each step slowly but surely towards securing victory against the schemers. Luxa's fall from grace will encourage Gorger to take advantage of the situation by feeding us with information about the schemers. The Fount, now allies with us, will convince the rebel gnawers to forge a temporary alliance with us against the schemers. Can't you see, Gregor? We are neutralising our enemies one by one just by bringing Luxa down. She is the KEY."

Gregor just shook his head, unsure of whether the overriding emotion was confusion or disappointment. "No, Ripred," he said sadly, "I don't understand. All I see is you obsessing over defeating Luxa. We're supposed to stand together during this time, not fight against each other."

"I'm making the sacrifice here, Gregor, not you," Ripred hissed viciously, "I'm the one who is on the verge of going to prison, I'm the one who is making myself Luxa's enemy. I'll be lucky if I'm still alive at the end of this. But you have to listen to me and vote against her, even if your feelings tell you otherwise. Don't let your relationship with her blind you to the truth. We have too many enemies in this war, Gregor, and sometimes we have to sacrifice our own in order to win."

Deep down, the bitter truth for Gregor to swallow was that Ripred was probably right. "How do you know for sure that this plan will work?" he asked Ripred.

"I've been through much more than you, Overlander," Ripred replied, "I know how war and diplomacy works. I know the necessary measures we need to take in order to win this game of chess against Flavius. He is the real enemy at the end of the day, not anybody else."

"You forgot about Operation Claw," Gregor reminded him.

"Oh yes," Ripred mused, "Them too. Clawsin has reported that Overlander buildings are being constructed in the Dead Lands. I don't know how much truth there is in that rumour, but we need to act fast. If we are going to find the strength to launch an assault against them, we need to make sure we have as little hurdles in front of us as possible."

"And so you want me to bring down the only woman I have ever loved so that you stay out of prison," Gregor said bitterly and to be honest, a little resentfully.

"Stop being an emotional prick, Gregor," Ripred spat back, "I've done what is necessary to save this city and it's your turn to be pragmatic. If you returned to the Underland just to spend time with Luxa I suggest you get out of here before it gets dirty!"

There it was. The same dilemma- choosing between the city and Luxa. "This city needs you to step up now," Ripred went on, " I don't care how difficult it is for you to decide, you can cry yourself to sleep and I won't bat an eyelid. If you want this city to survive and for Luxa to endure along with it, I suggest you follow my instructions very carefully."

Gregor looked up into Ripred's eyes, and saw the same intelligence, deadliness and pain he had seen all those years ago. This was a rat hell bent on doing what he thought was needed, even if it meant smashing down countless ethical barriers in the process.

A horn suddenly sounded out, reverberating throughout the city ominously. "They're faster than I thought," Ripred commented, getting up and stretching.

"Who?" Gregor asked.

"The Fount," Ripred replied, "The first part of my plan is about to begin."

The old rat began to make his way out of the room, before Gregor called out, "Ripred."

Ripred turned around and faced Gregor.

"What if I choose not to follow your instructions?" Gregor asked the old rat calmly. This was no mere question though, and both of them knew it. This was very risky, but Gregor was adamant about it. He was levelling a threat against Ripred, and the old rat was now being forced to respond to it.

Ripred cleared his throat and replied, "If you are not on my side, then you are technically against me."

Both of them had made their threats implicitly, but the intentions were crystal clear. Gregor might as well not conceal his thoughts any longer, so he said in return,

"May the best rager win."

* * *

 **There we go! Sorry if the quality dipped as it progressed- I just celebrated my birthday and I'm kinda in the party mood so it wasn't exactly my best piece of work. I hope you still enjoyed it though, especially the tease at the end for a possible Ripred vs Gregor battle. Do remember to continue reviewing please. Follows and favourites are also appreciated.**

 **Question: In all honesty, would you guys look forward to a Ripred vs Gregor fight? I may or may not adjust my plot based on your suggestions, but I'd just like to hear from you guys anyway.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Last Queen

**Hello everyone! It's been just over two weeks since I last updated and I am truly sorry for the long wait, but it has been an intense period for me and I am truly exhausted. Now's the Easter break, so I hope you guys could drop a review by my story. It would be greatly appreciated if you guys could do that. Anyway, thank you to the following people who reviewed my story: A happy reader, FierceDeity24, SlyIntellect, .taylor, ArestheUnderlander, Clytuis, shadowofdarkness, Darklord, TheGreatAthlon5, MarbleSky, Thiazzie and last but not least HumanicHedgehog. You guys made these last two weeks infinitely brighter, so please continue to review!**

 **On a side note, I have listened closely to whether you look forward to a battle between Ripred and Gregor. It seems to be pretty even at the moment, so I'm really not sure. I'll just say that I am keeping the plot of this story VERY close to my chest, so be ready for ANYTHING. That's all I am going to say.**

 **This chapter could get a little bit complicated at some points, but I hope you don't mind. The themes I try to examine in this story can be complex, and this chapter does deal with democracy here and there. I didn't make it too deep or it'd literally become an essay, but I hope you guys are ok with it. This can be a really dark story, admittedly darker in tone compared to previous writers like Tytonic. I hope you guys don't mind, though. It's the Underland I have envisioned and if you dislike it, please let me know.**

 **There's been a slight dip in the quality of my writing, but I hope it is not too noticeable. I have really been very tired.**

 **This chapter is written from Luxa's second perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The Last Queen**

Luxa stood on the High Hall alone, as the gates of Regalia were slowly drawn open to let them enter the lion's' den. She was going to bare her teeth and show them no mercy, because if she even showed them a spot of vulnerability, then everything was in jeopardy. The Fount was not going to show any sympathy to Regalia just because there was a time when they were like brothers and sisters- no, the Fount was an enraged, cornered beast which had lingered in the shadows for far too long. And they were definitely not going to pull any punches when they entered the battlefield.

A cold wind greeted her up in the High Hall as her skirt billowed in the unfriendly currents. It seemed only fit for the cold wind to rush forward in the presence of the delegates, and Luxa was going to greet them icily likewise. Aurora landed next to her as they stared at the contingent from the Fount being quickly surrounded by Regalian soldiers. "It does not have to end this way, Luxa," Aurora whispered, "We don't have to go to war."

"War," Luxa replied softly, "Is inevitable. I never expected us to fight with them, but they have pushed us beyond our limits. Our patience wore thin a very long time ago."

"YOUR patience wore thin a long time ago," Aurora corrected her, "I still have hope that we can maintain peace."

Ordinarily, if this was Gregor or Ripred, Luxa wouldn't have held back from lashing out at such comments. But she knew Aurora for much longer than either of the other two, and her trust and respect had only evolved as every year crawled by. And it was this respect which was now forcing Luxa to think about their relationship with the Fount. Was war truly the best option?

It mattered not. Luxa had chosen to walk down the trodden and heavy-beaten path of war and death- it ended up being less of a burden than Luxa had imagined, especially after all these years of declaring war on all these species. She was so entangled in a mess of chaos and darkness that she had long since given up on finding the once kind and affectionate side of herself. She occasionally revealed it to Gregor and Aurora, but those moments were fleeting. They were like precious jewels that she kept locked away until there was a day when she could finally bury the trauma of her city. It gave her great pride but also introduced her to immeasurable sorrow.

"They are coming," Aurora told her, "Shall we greet them?"

Luxa instantly banished any lingering sentimentality or sympathy she had in relation to the Fount as her expression slowly hardened to mask any weakness.

"You look stoic enough," Aurora remarked, clearly not very impressed by what was quickly becoming Luxa's favourite facade.

Luxa said nothing in reply as she regally strode forward and mounted up on Aurora. Aurora took off gracefully and began their slow descent towards the small square in front of the palace. The soldiers on the ground instantly saluted and the delegates from the Fount stared up in awe as Aurora hovered just above them for a while. Luxa was aware of her enormous shadow being cast over them, with the shadows appearing like the hand of a god. That was exactly what Luxa wanted- to be seen as a goddess in front of these people. She nearly jerked back in disgust when she saw Stellovet gazing up with her usual demeanour of casual arrogance, but Luxa was just about able to maintain her stone-cold expression. Only Stellovet could still appear to be looking down on someone even when that someone was the queen of Regalia and was hovering over her.

She was soon alerted to a new presence, as Apollo came soaring forward with Gregor riding on him. The both of them had gotten rid of their armour, but Gregor clearly understood the complexity and gravity of the situation, as he was dressed fairly well. The robes he wore was her present to him on his birthday, and while she was still smarting from that bitter argument with him, she was still glad to see him hanging around.

But when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was concern and fear. A vivid, savage fear that made Luxa's heart beat just that little bit faster. He looked worried and surprisingly vulnerable- but when she had stormed out of the council room he hadn't been in this state. Something must have triggered this new wave of uncertainty, and it frightened Luxa that Gregor was looking so frightened.

Then came a moment which made Luxa's heart nearly shoot right out of her mouth.

Stellovet gave a gentle wave and a flirtatious smile to Gregor, which infuriated the hell out of Luxa. But her anger was quickly replaced by curiosity- Gregor seemed to acknowledge it. Luxa struggled to find the words to describe it but… they seemed to have some… understanding, for each other. Gregor looked extremely uncomfortable, while Stellovet appeared to have a knowing look on her face.

Luxa was going to get down to the bottom of the whole matter, but first there were the formalities. "Delegates of the Fount," she called out, "You are welcome here."

"Some welcome," Luxa saw Stellovet mutter.

Once again, Luxa had to clamp down on the urge to draw out her sword and decapitate Stellovet, but she was better than that. A queen would never drag herself down to a pitiful, superficial level of arguing with an imbecile like Stellovet.

A tall, weathered man stepped forward and replied, "We thank you, queen Luxa, for accepting us into this city. I am he called Lorius. If it offends you not, I would like to comment that our relationship has grown distant of late. Has Regalian diplomacy ignored the Fount in its dealings?"

"We have much to discuss, Lorius," Luxa responded calmly, "I am sure we both misunderstand each other in some way, although the allegations against the Fount have deeply troubled us. That being said, I hope you have enjoyed the hospitality so far."

Damn. Slip of the tongue. Luxa silently cursed herself for being so careless. Never show the enemy a chink in your armour, and Luxa had just done that by giving Lorius an opportunity to attack her.

"The hospitality? I look forward to it!" he joked, earning a chuckle from the delegation, "Why the need to surround us by hostile-looking Regalians, your Majesty? We are quite safe, I can assure you. And of course, a meeting with the imperial monarch of Regalia would never be complete without an appearance from the triumphant legend of the Underland. How fare you, Warrior?"

"I fare… well," Gregor replied cautiously, casting a sidelong glance at Luxa.

"Many would agree that your influence in the Underland has become ubiquitous following the battle of Regalia," Lorius told him, "You are greatly revered and you have sealed your place in the Underland's history. In fact, one of our topics of discussion with queen Luxa today involves you."

"No surprises there," Gregor mouthed to Luxa, before replying to Lorius, "I look forward to the discussion."

"As do I," Lorius responded with a sly smile, before turning to Luxa and saying, "Shall we?"

"Lead them to the Council hall now," Luxa told the soldiers, "The Council members have already been told to assemble there. It will be a private meeting."

"Private meeting, your Majesty?" one soldier asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

"Do as I say," Luxa replied firmly, "The public will not be allowed to witness this meeting."

The soldier nodded his head reluctantly and began to lead the delegates to the Council hall, leaving just Gregor and Luxa lingering on over the square.

Gregor was the first to hold out the olive branch. "Look, I'm sorry about just now," he said to her, "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings."

Luxa had no idea how to respond to that. The bitter fury and disappointment she felt against him was being coated by the unadulterated love she had for him. No matter how much she disliked him, it never slipped over the cliff and fell into hate. Hatred was the furthest feeling she had from Gregor. "I know," she replied as softly as she could.

Gregor looked just as unsure of what to say next as she did. In the end, he just shrugged and said, "We have a meeting to attend."

Apollo then started flying towards the Council hall, but Luxa called out, "Gregor! Is there anything you wish to tell me now?"

Apollo halted his flight immediately, and Gregor stared ahead for a while. Then he slowly spun around to meet her gaze, and that's when she saw it again. The intense fear in his eyes which made him look even more vulnerable and confused than Luxa had ever seen him in a long time. "Now's not the time," he told her hesitantly.

"Now is as good a time as any," she replied wearily, sounding a thousand years older than she actually was. She had endured so much and fought through so much pain. Whatever Gregor needed to tell her couldn't hurt.

Gregor opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a new presence. "Trying to mend your relationship in public? Not very tactful," Ripred said smugly as he sauntered forward.

"You're not helping," Luxa shot back at him with just as much dry wit as possible, before realising that Ripred was technically slated to be arrested for high treason. She quickly changed her throat and adopted a new tone, "Get to the Council hall now. I will not tolerate any defiance, especially not from you."

"Relax, darling," Ripred replied, "I know you're still angry with me. But perhaps you'd like to start behaving more discretely in public, hmm?"

Luxa glared contemptuously at Ripred, but she knew he had a point. As ridden with mortal sins and a dark past as Ripred was, he was almost never wrong. Now wasn't the time to behave badly under the watchful eye of the public. She was about to resume her stiff demeanour and order Ripred to go to the Council hall, until she looked right into Ripred's eyes and nearly jerked backwards in shock.

It was raw pain and fear.

If you stared hard enough, you could always find pain in Ripred's eyes. After all, his past was one elongated tragedy which had spawned the monstrosity which he was today. But coupled with fear… it was horrific. Ripred was trying to hide how broken he was, but even at that he was failing. Something was deeply wrong with him.

The fear and pain suddenly escalated quickly, and before Luxa realised it, his expression was dark and angry beyond words. Luxa took an involuntary step backwards, and asked, "What happened?"

The darkness and anger and pain and fear suddenly vanished, and was replaced by his usual haughtiness. "Someone's had a change of heart," he smirked, "Are you feeling alright, your Majesty?"

Was there anything? Had she seen what she had just seen?

"Go to the Council hall now," Luxa said quickly, trying to steel herself, "We can discuss this later. The both of you."

Apollo then resumed his flight to the Council hall while Ripred trotted off, humming a tune to himself. "Did you smell anything on Ripred?" she asked Aurora.

"The rat has years of experience," Aurora sighed, "Whatever emotions he had just now, he has long since found the solution to masking it. I smelled nothing but his trademark dry sarcasm."

"Did you see his eyes?" Luxa pressed, "Did you see the fear?"

"No," Aurora replied bluntly, "To be frank with you, Luxa, we can never truly read true emotions of others through their eyes. Most of the time, it is just a figment of our imagination."

"I saw it," Luxa insisted, "I saw it in both Gregor's and Ripred's eyes. Something is going on behind my back, and I HAVE TO get to the bottom of it."

"Not today, Luxa," Aurora said gently, "There is enough drama for today."

Luxa spotted Hazard just outside the Council hall gesticulating wildly at her, frantically waving his arms to get her attention. "Well," she replied, "I suppose you are spot on about the drama. It has not even begun to unfold yet."

Aurora shot forward and within seconds, landed right outside the Council hall. "The others are awaiting your appearance," Hazard informed her as she dismounted off Aurora.

"Is Howard here?" She asked him.

"Yes," Hazard answered, before adding, "Perhaps you might not want to be so harsh when addressing the Fount. Howard might not take it personally but take care not to offend him at all. He is possibly the bridge between the Fount and us."

"Thank you for the advice, little cousin. But I am afraid that we cannot afford to pull our punches here," she told him honestly, "The Fount must pay for its crimes."

"And what about us?" Hazard asked defiantly, "Are we not guilty of our own crimes as well?"

"This is the Underland, Hazard," Luxa replied coldly, "Kill or be killed. And we are losing our war against the schemers because they are willing to do what we could never do."

"They are our brothers and sisters too, Luxa," Hazard insisted, "Brothers and sisters do not kill each other."

Luxa just stared sadly at Hazard. The innocent flower in a barren landscape mired with brutality and corruption. Uncle Hamnet was right in teaching his son to avoid battle, but Hazard was the sole figure of hope in a world which had long since had it. "I'm sorry cousin," she said softly in response, "What has to be done will be done."

Wishing to end the conversation there, she quickly strode into the Council hall, and the guard hollered, "All hail the queen of Regalia!"

There was mild applause as Luxa made her way over to the throne, wincing slightly at the empty seat next to hers. It was times like these when Luxa wondered whether Conrad was still alive, and whether she wanted him to still be alive. A wave of emotion slammed into her, and she had to take in a deep breath before settling down on the throne, as the oppressive presence of the empty seat next to her heaped even more pressure onto her shoulders. She began by saying, "The Fount may speak their mind first."

Lorius instantly stood up and pretentiously strode forward with an aura of confidence, which made Luxa instantly dislike the man. He stood on the stage, cleared his throat and said, "I wish we had more witnesses here to discuss the issues at hand. But we will take it as it is today. Because today is a day where we will not be stopped in our agenda."

"Pray tell what your agenda is," one of the Council members asked fiercely.

"To right the wrongs that Regalia has inflicted on us," Lorius replied, "Earlier today, Regalian forces were spotted in a battle with the schemers near the Waterway, which was a five-minute flight from the Fount. Regalia was aware of this and yet they did not alert us of the threat, even when it was right at our doorstep. Is this some grandiose scheme conjured by your generals to mitigate the threat of the schemers all on your own? Why did you leave us out of the loop?"

"We saved your lives," Perdita snarled, leaping right to her feet, "It is Regalian blood that stains the soil, not yours! Your ingratitude is deplorable!"

"You are skirting the issue, general," Lorius answered calmly, "What if you had chosen not to battle the schemers at the Waterway? That would have left us free to be ambushed and we would have little strength in defending our city. The point is that Regalia has become far too powerful and assumed its position as a superpower that it has alienated its own allies in the process. This kind of fait accompli that you have demonstrated today has frustrated the Fount for far too long."

"You wanted us to protect you during the war with the schemers," Perdita pointed out, "So we have done so."

"Without telling us about it," Lorius countered, "What if Regalia had to defend an attack? Where would that leave us? You all have become far too arrogant to reveal your shortcomings, and you are jeopardising the rest of the Underland in doing so."

"Have a seat, general," Luxa told Perdita. She reluctantly bowed her head and took a seat, but not before shooting Lorius a hateful glare.

Luxa then turned to Lorius and said, "The breach of trust was initiated by the Fount, I am afraid. First you demanded war reparations from us, which is simply ridiculous considering we were fighting on the same side. Secondly, you have allied yourselves with the rebel gnawers. Tell us why we should keep you in the loop when you have been acting against us all this while."

"Acting against you?" Lorius scoffed, "We have always been on your side. The war reparations are not meant to punish you, your Majesty. But as a colony, you are responsible for our wellbeing. And seeing as we suffered catastrophic damage, we assume that as the superpower of the Underland, you would compensate for the damage."

"York has been pushing for the independence of the Fount for the past two years," Luxa replied, "The Fount better make up its mind whether it is a colony or whether it is independent. If it is independent, we will not pay you any money to rebuild your city. But even if we wanted to, our hands are all tied up. Regalia has suffered huge collateral damage itself and we have to rebuild our city too."

"With all due respect your Majesty, we are still officially a colony of Regalia even if in principle, we are not. That means you should have defended us when the schemers went to war against us. And as long as we are still officially a colony, it matters not whether we want to separate from Regalia or not- we still demand compensation as a colony. On the contrary, your husband actually knew full well of the schemers' plans to attack our city, yet he let them do it in exchange for his own safety," Lorius responded.

"My husband is not here for us to punish him," Luxa answered coldly, "Believe me when I say he will be trialled if he is found. But for now, we will not shoulder the blame for his deeds. And you still have to explain the schemers' allegations that they agreed to have a meeting with you about a possible alliance."

"What are you talking about?" Lorius asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"I have at least a thousand soldiers who will act as my witnesses," Luxa stated firmly, "The schemers told us that they planned to visit you for an alliance, not to ambush you."

"That is preposterous!" Lorius exclaimed, "We would never even think about it!"

"Like you never thought about allying with the rebel gnawers?" Luxa questioned, "It is certainly not the first time you have decided to ally with Regalia's enemies. By the way, you still have not explained your alliance with the rebel gnawers. And do not even bother denying it, we know it is true. We have evidence and information on our side, so you can forget about lying to us."

Lorius for once actually looked slightly shaken by the revelation, but he quickly shrugged it off and declared, "Our alliance with the rebel gnawers is not political. It is merely a peace treaty which prevents either side from going to war against each other. We are merely trying to preserve the peace, not agitate it."

"But the Fount is a colony," Luxa pointed out, "It is officially obligated to go to war with us, even though we have not enforced this law in recent years. But if you want to be technical, we can be technical too. So either you go to war with us against the rebel gnawers, or you don't get your war 'reparations'."

Check. Mate.

Lorius now looked well and truly stumped. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to make sense of the situation, before settling for a closed mouth. Luxa glanced over at the Council members, who were nodding their heads enthusiastically in unison. This was how Luxa bargained- with nothing held back, not even when she was dealing with her relatives.

Suddenly Lorius spoke up and blurted, "We have no need for war reparations. If the city of Regalia so wishes to go to war against us for being in a peace treaty with the rebel gnawers, then so be it."

Loud exclamations erupted in the Council. The cacophony of noise that now engulfed the hall was absolutely deafening and Luxa couldn't hear herself above the din. Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek cut through the chatter like a knife through butter, and Luxa couldn't help but grimace from the squeak. Ripred was on his feet, a rare look of grim determination plastered on his face. Everybody's heads swivelled round to face him as he boomed, "Regalia has no intention of going to war against the Fount no matter how bloody obnoxious they are. Lorius, am I correct to assume your issue today is that Regalia has too much power and is exercising its power in an authoritarian manner?"

"Yes," Lorius answered cautiously, "Yes, Lord Ripred."

"So there you have it!" Ripred declared triumphantly, "They don't want to go to war with us! Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that we have a problem-solution mismatch. The Fount's issue with us is that we have grown too powerful beyond our own good. To be frank, it is true. But the problem isn't so much with those in charge as it is with the system. Therefore, I propose a change to the system."

"What do you mean, Lord Ripred?" one member of the Council inquired.

"It is very simple," Ripred replied earnestly, "We give everybody a choice. The choice to decide what policies we run, a choice to decide how we deal with threats and allies, and a choice to decide whether we want a monarch or we want a republic. Let democracy decide."

"WHAT?" Luxa exclaimed, springing to her feet. The air lit up with a frenzy of excited discussions once more, and it took yet another ear-piercing squeak from Ripred to shut the crowd up.

"You intend to turn our decision-making process into a popularity contest, Lord Ripred?" one Council member asked skeptically, "We have discussed this before. The people of Regalia are uninformed and do not have the capacity to make the right decisions, let alone choosing between the queen and a republic. That is the perennial problem with this so-called democracy."

"No," Ripred replied, "You are correct. Not everyone in this city truly deserves a vote in this age. So I suggest we turn to the purest and most original form of democracy as a start, and build our way up from there."

"How exactly?" the Council member asked.

"Give only the delegates and Councils from each species a chance to vote," Ripred explained, "We turn the Underland into a single republic in the process, and we can institute a constitutional monarchy in place if the Councils and delegates so choose. But if you elect to have all forms of absolute or constitutional monarchy removed, then we form a real republic from there."

"I oppose this change!" Luxa proclaimed, "And I demand that Ripred be arrested on high treason. NOW!"

The guards jogged half-heartedly over to Ripred, but a sharp hiss from him sent them back-pedalling quickly. "There's no need to act so rashly," Ripred sighed in a sing-song voice, "At the very least, please hear me out before you send the whole Regalian army here to put me behind bars. Lorius, what say you to this proposition?"

Lorius quickly made his way over to the rest of the Fount's delegation for a quick discussion, before walking back on stage and announcing, "We find that Ripred's proposal is satisfactory and is in line with the change that we have come to seek from Regalia. In fact, we would like to say that this is possibly the most ideal solution for all parties in the Underland."

"There we go!" Ripred responded cheerfully, "That's the spirit we're looking for. And how about you, Council?"

The Council members were in the middle of a fierce debate, but Daedalus eventually turned around and said, "We have reached a consensus. This plan is… certainly feasible and justifiable in our eyes, and it sounds like it could possibly be a solution to peace."

Luxa couldn't believe her ears. In the space of a few minutes, she had been on top of this whole meeting and had been hammering the living daylights out of Lorius. But within a span of minutes, she was now the one who was facing the guillotine. She didn't know how to feel as a grim whirlwind of emotions stirred tears in her eyes. Surprise, disappointment, anger, fury, betrayal, desperation, vulnerability… And most of all, fear.

She was being thrown from the mountain and was on her own when facing the hungry wolves. And as confident and arrogant as Luxa had been all her life, she stood no chance while standing so vulnerable in front of all these wolves. She might as well have sacrificed herself there and then- it mattered little. She could protest all she wanted, but no matter what she did, it would never ever be enough. She was a fool and Ripred was right- she was alone. And in that isolation, she had thrown away her most potent ally and turned him into the catalyst for her downfall. How ironic. How poetic. How tragic. It was almost as twisted as some of Sandwich's self-fulfilling prophecies. She remembered it all. Her father, hiding her mother away from the oft-scrutinised palace and putting her in that cave. But it was that action which allowed the gnawers to finally get to her and…

Luxa felt real tears welling up in her eyes now. She fought them back down as hard as she could, but she knew that she was broken on the inside. She hated feeling sorry for herself- but that was exactly how she was feeling right now. Luxa looked up into the eyes of the most ruthless and unforgiving rat in the Underland, hoping for some sign of pity. She found none. All she was greeted with was the cold, hardened expression of a rat who had played his cards right and exacted his revenge to perfection. It didn't take a genius to know that Luxa faced a losing battle. If she had learned anything from Gregor about the Overland, it was that people, when given a choice, would never choose a monarch. Not even a benevolent monarch could overcome the people's sheer desire for freedom, as blind and delusional as this desire for freedom could be.

And going to war with the most intelligent creature in the whole of the Underland bar the schemers was always going to be a bad idea. Luxa would never admit it openly, but choosing to fight with Ripred was a mistake. Threatening him was a mistake. When would she ever stop making mistakes? She wanted to yell out at Ripred, to overrule the idea. But that would only reinforce her authoritarian image and convince other people to organise a coup against her. If she was going to leave the throne, she didn't want it to be a violent abdication. Not when it involved her own people.

"One last thing before we call an end to proceedings," Lorius said, "It has come to our attention that our Lady Stellovet and the Warrior have been thinking about marriage. Lady Susannah has approved of the union and would be happy to let it happen. This an offer on OUR part to bridge the divide between Regalia and the Fount. A marriage between two people of both cities."

Gregor and Luxa both sprang to their feet and yelled, "WHAT?"

Stellovet blew a kiss to Gregor, and said, "Remember our night back in the Fount, love? When I fingered your scars? When we spoke to each other about our love for each other? When we nearly kissed, only for the arrival of the schemers to interrupt it? Remember?"

"No," Gregor answered coldly, "I remember none of it. I choose to remember none of it."

"Do not lie, my love," Stellovet purred in that high-pitched voice of hers, "Can you lie in front of the queen of Regalia that nothing happened in that changing room? If you truly love this city, would you lie that none of that happened?"

"I… I…" Gregor stammered, before keeping quiet.

Luxa stared on in horror as Gregor struggled with his conscience, and she could see him grappling with his emotions. "I cannot deny it never happened," he replied slowly, before quickly adding, "But-"

But that was all Luxa could bear to hear. With tears streaming down her face and her heart smashed to smithereens, she stormed out of the Council hall, unable to believe that the love of her life had left her in a dark pit of solitude. The last hope she had left was gone.

Luxa was on her own.

* * *

 **I hope I didn't leave you too depressed with the ending of this chapter, but it was always in the plan for Stellovet's interaction with Gregor in Regalian Bloodbath to come back to haunt him. I particularly hope you liked the complexities I tried to introduce in this chapter, and I hope that my story allows us to revisit these themes in the future.**

 **Of course, favourites and follows are always welcome! Have a happy Easter everyone.**

 **Question: I'm not going to ask a question about this chapter, but I'm going to carry forward last week's question. Would you like to see a Gregor vs Ripred fight? Why so? And who do you think would win?**

 **Fly you high!**


	7. Chapter 7: Absolute Power

**Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews that have come in! It's been a really stressful week for me, so I'm thankful you guys have made it SO much better by dropping a review by my story. Please continue to do so in the future! Anyway, thanks to the following awesome people: Darklord, A happy reader, TheGreatAthlon5, HumanicHedgeHog, Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander, Myname(nice to see you around again), Alpha Death(thanks for your 3 reviews), Randonfire, FierceDeity24, Thiazzie, 1977(happy easter to you too! Lol sorry for the late wish), SlyIntellect, a guest reader, MarbleSky, trevorarnett32(nice to meet you! Hope to see you around more) and pyro159.**

 **Anyway, I'd just like to talk about a possible Gregor vs Ripred fight. I don't know whether they've ever fought in a serious battle on any other stories, so please let me know if you've read it elsewhere. When I wrote my first story it was never my intention to pit them against each other for fear of it becoming a boring staple in every story, but if they haven't fought in a brutal battle before I might consider… well, I've already decided the outcome of the fight and how it goes, so um… that's all I'll say about it I guess.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter. It is a continuation of Gregor's and Ripred's conversation about democracy and the future of the Underland. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Absolute Power**

"LUXA!" Gregor yelled desperately as she stormed out of the Council hall, leaving a trail of broken dreams in her wake. Their relationship was now well and truly over, no matter how hard Gregor tried to and would try to mend it. The founding pillars of trust in their relationship had been breached by a half-truth, and Gregor had lost the one woman he truly loved all his life. A hurricane of confusion and denial swept through him, as he struggled to digest and absorb what he had just seen. What was… Was Luxa really gone? Was this a bad dream? What on earth was happening? Where was the Bane when he needed him? Gregor couldn't believe his own thought process- he prayed for the Bane to appear, to show that this was all a cruel dream meant to toy with his emotions.

But the Bane never appeared. And the nightmare he thought he was facing slowly morphed into reality as he was greeted by a spectrum of faces- of pity, of indifference, of anger, of amusement. And yes, the look of amusement was coming from Ripred. That jarring image of the rat arrogantly staring at him jarred his senses into action. He drew out his blade and pointed the tip at Stellovet.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANOTHER WORD!" he roared at her.

Stellovet looked genuinely confused too, as she looked back and forth between Lorius and Gregor. "I deny the union," Gregor spat at her, shaking with fury, "I reject any marriage between you and me. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Peace, Warrior," Daedalus said gently, "We can easily clear up this misunderstanding."

Gregor slowly found the will to control himself, and he stifled another shout rising to his lips as he sat down. He could feel blood rushing around his body and being pumped straight to his head as his mind hummed with sheer anger. The feeling of rage had created a sound similar to his heartbeat, thumping hard against his forehead like a drum and echoing throughout his body. His vision occasionally splintered, revealing the various weaknesses on Stellovet. He gasped as his body convulsed slightly from the urge to get up and fight. He was losing control of his rager side again.

He took in a deep breath and pictured Damien's dead body, which instantly quelled the growing rage inside him. He took another deep breath and his hatred against Stellovet subsided slightly. That was all he needed- two deep breaths and the image of Damien to calm himself down.

It was one of those rare times when his rager tendencies burst to life even when there was no danger around him. And it was these rare instances which frightened Gregor the most. His switch from being heroic to demonic just based on his emotions was starting to edge its way into his life- he nearly lost control in the arena just a couple of weeks ago. He once struggled with controlling his rager side, and now he was fighting against the rage which triggered it. If all it took was just one incident to spark off his anger and turn him into a bloodthirsty monster, then Gregor had made no progress in controlling his rager side. If anything, it meant that he had ironically regressed into a darker, more turbulent and chaotic side of himself which he had no idea how to control.

But amongst all the concern about his lack of control, the one thing that weighed on his mind right now was Luxa leaving him. Only God knew how angry and betrayed she felt, and Gregor had pretty much squandered any chance of being able to convince her otherwise by not running after her. He cursed himself for not phrasing his words properly and for not being careful enough when dealing with Stellovet's allegations. Gregor had botched his attempt of trying to clear up the mess and had done the equivalent of throwing a bucket of shit in Luxa's face.

And he hated himself for that.

He hated himself for not being as sly, or careful, or witty as Ripred. Or Lizzie, for that matter. Or even as diplomatic as Hazard. He was just a dumb soldier who was cast in the strange and foreign world of politics- and because he didn't know how to defend himself, he had lost everything.

The Council said a few last words to the delegates, who seemed to be quite pleased with how the meeting turned out to be. Lorius in particular looked delighted, shaking hands with each and every member of the Council.

The cheerful mood of the delegates was quickly dampened, as they were surrounded by Regalian soldiers within seconds of declaring their intention to leave. Gregor watched on in loathing as they were hustled out in an undignified and unceremonious manner. He felt his skin tingle as he imagined one of the guards plunging his weapon into Stellovet, and he had to shake his head hard to shred that image and stop the tingling.

The rage in his gut never left. Breathing heavily, he got up and paced around as the Council members left along with the generals. Howard cast a sympathetic glance at him before leaving quietly as well, leaving just Ripred and Gregor in the Council hall.

The deafening and intolerable silence only spiced up the anger in Gregor's gut even more. He swung his sword around erratically and furiously, feeling no sense of guilt as it hacked down chairs, scratched walls and scarred the floor. Each time the blade whistled through the air and connected with an object, Gregor felt an odd sense of satisfaction and entertainment. The sound of sword grinding against stone continuously jolted his senses, but Gregor was beyond the point of caring. Nothing made sense to him anymore, anyway.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Ripred quipped out of the blue.

Without warning, Gregor succumbed to his rage. Feeling the blood race through his veins and his vision splinter, he spun around and hurled himself at Ripred, swinging his sword with as much ferocity as he could muster. The blade cut through the air and was seconds away from cleaving off Ripred's snout when a pair of claws got in the way and blocked the strike. Gregor looked up and stared in Ripred's eyes, which was similarly flaming with anger.

Both of them began to strain against each other, as Gregor felt Ripred's claws scraping against his blade. The rat's muscles were bulging now, and it was hard not to notice Ripred's rapid breathing as he struggled to hold Gregor's blade at bay. Gregor edged forward with intent, feeling his pulse quicken as Ripred's figure slowly inched backwards.

And then it stopped. The burning embers of anger slowly faded away as Gregor relaxed his body and disengaged his blade from Ripred's claws. He backed off slightly to show he meant no harm and sheathed his blade. Meanwhile, Ripred sagged forward and panted heavily, as huge beads of sweat glistened on his fur. For a split second, Gregor felt a strong ripple of sympathy surge through his body as he saw his old mentor nearly teetering over. The old rat's tongue hung out limply, and it was hard not to feel sorry for someone who was once regarded as the most fearsome and invincible fighter in the whole of the Underland. To see him so weak and vulnerable was as stunning a revelation as discovering the Underland for the first time. This was a Ripred who could actually be killed. And as furious as Gregor was with him, it would be inhumane not to feel pity for the deadliest general the Underland had ever seen.

But the sympathy quickly evaporated and rose off Gregor's chest as Ripred straightened himself up once more. "Oh dear," he remarked with a smile, "Is this where we fight to the death? I didn't expect it so soon."

Gregor had heard that line before. A long time ago, when a boy was fuming mad with a rat who had betrayed his most private, intimate secret to Solovet. A boy who once believed in ideals and once believed in a greater good. An innocent boy who had been thrust into a chaotic world of death and war. A boy who simultaneously admired and hated the rat who stood in front of him, trying to explain what he was doing. A boy who was forced to become a man in the darkness. It seemed like a whole different world, but it was the same one he had fallen down all those years ago. Still the same world. Still the same rat. And still the same anger which had consumed him eleven years ago.

"I have no intention of battling you," Gregor said honestly, almost taken aback by how weary he sounded, "I have fought with enough friends to know it's never worth it. And of all people I could fight, you're the last one on my mind."

Ripred chuckled slightly and replied, "Your words now mean little, Overlander. You and I both know that together we are a time bomb waiting to explode. There was always going to come a day when we would turn on each other, and that day is coming. The Underland only has space for one rager and his ego, whether you like it or not."

"There is still hope," Gregor said earnestly, "We've lived together in peace for two years without fighting. Now's not the time to break that streak."

"Oh my, your optimism speaks of how delusional you are," Ripred sneered, "After all these years facing my cynicism, and you still believe in the concept of hope? That's rather disappointing, don't you think?"

"Vikus died believing in it," Gregor insisted, "And I intend to continue that hope."

"And that hope died with Vikus," Ripred sighed, "No matter how much respect you have for that man, he died with a false ideal and corrupted the rest of the city with it. Regalia has been living this dull fantasy and now it reeks of self-deception. Do you know how that smells, Overlander? It smells stale and rotten to me, like shrimp in cream sauce gone bad. And I HATE shrimp gone bad."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gregor replied defiantly.

"Oh God," Ripred said exasperatedly as he rolled his eyes, "Look around you, Overlander. You have eyes, yes? Look at the statues of fallen heroes and memorials dedicated to misunderstood legends. Bloody hell, we actually have memorials in Sandwich's honour. That genocidal, twisted bastard has a day designated for an official celebration of his 'achievements'. We've been living in the past for far too long and everybody is catching up. The Fount is no longer scared of us. The nibblers are no longer scared of us. Neither are the diggers or the spinners or the crawlers or the fliers. The crawlers actually had the balls to go to war with us. THE CRAWLERS, mind you. That's the same species which dances around a four-year-old pup and calls her a princess."

"You're being racist," Gregor accused Ripred.

"I'm being realistic!" Ripred snapped back, "I'm the only one here seeing through the smoke of false promises and dreams. We've lost our purpose for a very long time and the wars with the schemers have only helped to reinforce that loss. Your girlfriend is partly to blame. Uh, I mean ex-girlfriend."

Gregor nearly lost his cool again. His hand instantly rested on the hilt of his sword and his fingers tightened around the hilt to form a hard grip of the sword. Ripred observed this with casual amusement and remarked, "And you were just saying you had no intention of battling me."

Gregor let go of the hilt and stumbled backwards in shock at how easily he had lost control. He felt his hand trembling uncontrollably as he forced his hand to rest at his side. "You can feel it, can't you?" Ripred pressed, "The anger and the rage that renders all logic useless. The indescribable feeling of hatred against me that compels you to use your blade. Don't bother hiding it, Overlander. I can smell it in you. That's what makes you vulnerable."

Gregor shook his head hard, trying to dispel the violent thoughts which were infiltrating his consciousness. "Don't push me," he warned Ripred, "It won't end well for either of us."

"Then don't give me a reason to," Ripred replied in that snarky tone of his, "Convince people to vote against Luxa. Force her off the throne. It's the only way to protect Regalia and the rest of the Underland at the moment, and even your dull brain can register that."

"You know I can't do that," Gregor responded in frustration, "I can't destroy her."

"You already have," Ripred replied brutally, "Let's face the harsh truth, Overlander. There's no way she is going to forgive you for your… intimate acts with Stellovet. She's not going to take you back, Overlander, and if you truly care for her, then you will vote her off to protect her. Because if it's not me engineering her abdication then the people will do it, and it will be an infinitely more painful process."

"I can still clarify the situation with her," Gregor insisted, "I can get back together with her."

"Keep lying to yourself, boy," Ripred replied, "The only person who loses out in the end will be you. You have a chance to do something that is more than just fighting. You have a chance to become a true saviour of Regalia, and you are throwing it out of the window for a girl with anger issues?"

"You don't understand," Gregor retorted, "You never did."

Gregor fully expected for Ripred to shoot back with a clever quip or insult, but to his surprise the rat's intense gaze softened slightly as he said, "I once did. And I'm trying to stop you from making the same damn mistakes I made. If you want to roam the Underland like a sullen drunkard, be my guest. Otherwise, don't dedicate your entire life to one woman, especially if that woman is Luxa."

"She's the reason why I've stayed on," Gregor confessed to Ripred, "Look, I'm sorry that I'm willing to fight with you over her. I wish it wasn't this way. But you have to understand how I'll look like to her if I garner votes against her."

"I think she's already seen you in that light," Ripred pointed out, "There was that over-dramatic incident where you told Solovet to lock her up. I generally don't understand you humans, but I'm guessing she was furious with you."

"This is different," Gregor argued, "She's been destroyed by Stellovet and me. I can't seal the nail in her coffin. Not after what I've done to her. Look, I'm really sorry but I can't and won't do it. Because I'm no better than the schemers if I do it and destroy her in the process."

"Don't apologise to me," Ripred snorted, "It's a sign of weakness."

"Whatever," Gregor responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, "The bottom line is that I'm not going to fight for your cause. Full stop."

"You need to stop seeing her as your lover," Ripred said as he shook his head in disappointment, "Because she's not going to run back into your embrace. See her as what she is- a queen who has become overwhelmed by the sheer amount of possession in her hands, and who has no idea what to do with it. A queen who rules by emotion rather than logic. A queen who has no idea how to handle her allies and fight her enemies. Luxa is a brilliant woman, but as the sole queen she cannot do it all on her own. Not when she disregards the opinions of her generals, her advisors and her lover."

"And now you've turned to democracy," Gregor countered, "A system you don't fully understand."

"On the contrary, I understand it perfectly fine," Ripred retorted, "It's a system that lends legitimacy to those in power."

"Not when only the elite in the Underland get a vote," Gregor said, shaking his head in disbelief, "Democracy is overrated."

"That's funny coming from an Overlander. You all worship and adore democracy like a god," Ripred shot back.

Gregor ignored him and continued, "You're not lending legitimacy to whoever is in power. That's not how it works. You think you can read a couple of books in the Overland and declare that we should move towards democracy down here? Regalia isn't ready, Ripred. You will only introduce chaos by trying to solve it."

"SO your CREATIVE and BRILLIANT alternative is to leave Luxa twiddling her thumbs on the throne," Ripred mused, "And I thought that the crawlers were stupid."

"I can read right through you, Ripred," Gregor snarled, "Once you throw Luxa off the throne you'll turn your back on democracy. You'll find some way of dissolving the republic and assuming control for yourself. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be in control of so much power. To have absolute power."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ripred scoffed, "Can you even hear yourself talking, Overlander? Even if I did want to do that, would it be so wrong?"

"You would be corrupted by the same power which you claim has corrupted Luxa," Gregor replied, "That's how it begins- the sudden vastness of power that lies before you. It becomes an insatiable thirst for more power, and even the most benevolent of leaders will turn into the most ruthless of dictators given the freedom to exercise such power."

"Thank you for proving my point," Ripred said with an arrogant smile, "You've just eloquently described Luxa."

"Except for one thing," Gregor quickly added, "We have control over her at the moment. You and me. We can hold her back together if we choose to fight for the right cause. There's no need for war or change, Ripred. All it takes is for us to have a little hope and belief, and the will to try harder. You'll only make the wrong enemies by destroying her."

"She doesn't listen to us," Ripred replied bitterly, "Have you been so blinded with love that you haven't seen it? She's become paranoid because of all that power that she can't bear to share it, and we need to shock her senses by removing that power from her. The power has given her a sense of self-entitlement to everything she has at the moment, whether she deserves it or not. That's how all monarchs think and behave, Gregor. They believe it is God who has bestowed power on them and therefore, they can do anything they want with that power."

"Not Luxa," Gregor said, "She's the exception."

"In the name of bloody Sandwich she's NOT," Ripred sighed, "They're all like that. It's become something of a characteristic, Overlander. Her father had it, her husband had it and now she has it. It's not her fault- anybody in her position, as you kindly put it, would succumb to that same power. But it's not our bloody duty to feel sorry for her, it's our bloody duty to act on it."

"The pressure on the throne is intensifying, Ripred," Gregor responded, "The solution isn't to increase the pressure, it's to alleviate it by helping her god damn it! Democracy is an ideal and a lie, Ripred. It lies by telling us we have a better society when we don't. It panders to the majority, even if the majority is hopelessly misguided and dumb. If more than fifty percent of the people want Regalia to surrender to the schemers, that will happen under a democratic paradigm."

"You sound like you're reading off a script," Ripred mocked him.

"I did write that essay back in high school," Gregor said sheepishly, "Before I got kicked out. But the point is that even if democracy works, people like you are working behind the scenes anyway to do what is necessary. You're lying to the people and giving them a false illusion of power in their hands."

"So what?" Ripred snorted, "Let them believe that power. Ignorance is bliss, my dear Overlander. I'd take a gullible and stupid Regalia who are content with their lives than an angry revolution wanting to drink Luxa's blood for supper."

"So that's it, huh?" Gregor said sadly, "We are destroying Luxa because we're scared of a revolution."

"Use your brain, Gregor," Ripred pleaded, "There's no way that we stand any chance of winning against the schemers if we are as disorganised and chaotic as we are. The Fount likes this plan and they are prepared to side with us if this goes the way I think it will go. I hate sacrificing Luxa… ok, I admit I don't hate sacrificing Luxa, but I think we can agree I'm doing the unpleasant job. All I need you to do is to get more votes for me and I'll be satisfied."

"But if people are so on board with your idea as you claim they are," Gregor replied, "Then you don't need me to convince them to vote Luxa off. That'll happen with or without my vote, right?"

"Wrong," Ripred answered, "Not everybody is prepared to take a leap of faith. But if they see the legendary hero of the Underland deciding to put his faith in this new system, other members will do likewise. As much as I hate to say this, you're more greatly revered in the Underland than me. If you convince others to vote against her, you'll effectively seal the deal."

"I've told you Ripred," Gregor responded frustratedly, "If she wasn't so angry about me and Stellovet, I'd do it. But I've broken her already. I won't kill her."

"You're saving her life you idiot,' Ripred growled in exasperation, "It's pretty much the same thing you did when you had her tossed into a prison cell. You're protecting her from herself."

"I'm not!" Gregor yelled, "I'm throwing her out into the cold to fend for herself. She won't survive and she won't accept my help. Can't you see I'll kill her?"

"Nope," Ripred replied, "I don't see at all. All I see is a scared, pathetic soldier who cannot do the simple task of protecting the one he loves."

Gregor once again felt his hand shudder violently as thoughts of fighting Ripred raced through his mind. Fiery images of Ripred's shredded body strewn across the floor unleashed a wave of excitement through him. It was a piping hot passion, almost lustful in the way it possessed him and urged him to draw his sword and fight Ripred.

But he forced those thoughts away. He closed his eyes and strained hard to stop the pounding drumbeats in his head as he gasped from the overwhelming hunger to fight. He could vaguely hear Ripred's voice, but it might as well have been the rustling of leaves in a calm breeze. All Gregor could hear and feel were the drumbeats, pressuring him into drawing out his weapon. A high-pitched noise began to pick up pace and gather volume, as his head rang from the excruciating pain. Ripred's lifeless body seemed to hover in the air and draw nearer to him. He fought the sensation almost as violently as it consumed him, as his head stung from the pain. The image of Damien was nothing but a faint picture, being burnt up by the flames of anger.

And then it was all over.

When his vision cleared, Ripred was still standing in front of him with a look of amusement and… pity? Ripred never pitied anybody and neither did he display his pity if he ever felt it. But Gregor saw it in him. The pity etched all over his face and the pain and the sadness. Gregor could have burst into tears from the deep emotion which Ripred was showing.

But as soon as it appeared, it vanished without a trace. "You're feeling it again, aren't you?" Ripred observed with casual interest, "The anger. You are so easily baited, Overlander. And that is your weakness."

"I can't do it Ripred," Gregor broke down and sank to his knees, "I can stand by one side as Luxa hurls abuse after abuse at me, but I won't bury her. And not like this."

"Life calls on us to make difficult decisions every day, Overlander," Ripred bullishly insisted, "If democracy is a lie as you say, then let it be so. Let it give the people hope, since you treasure hope so much. I'm almost tempted to sympathise with your sad little plight, but life's tough, boy. I've lost my friends, my parents, my allies, my mate and my pups over this shitty life I've lived. It never stopped me from doing what was right and what was necessary."

"Is there anyway out of this?" Gregor begged Ripred on his knees.

"What's your plan?" Ripred asked him abruptly. Gregor instantly found himself floundering as he searched his mind for something, anything, to change Ripred's mind. But in the end, he found himself gawking stupidly at Ripred.

"No plan, I suppose," Ripred commented gruffly, "Then you know there's no way out of this. I need you to be strong now, Overlander. All I need is a couple more confirmed votes and then we're done."

"Your revenge will be complete," Gregor sighed.

"You think this is revenge?" Ripred chuckled, "It's far from that, Overlander. If I wanted to take revenge, she'd be completely destroyed by now and you know it."

Gregor shook his head. He didn't want it to be this way, but he was done with all the shit in the Underland. "I'll consider your request. But if I do choose to do that, then I'm done with this place. I've given you warnings about democracy and about taking Luxa off the throne. But no more. If I destroy her, I can't bear living in this shit hole anymore."

"Fine," Ripred said simply, "Frankly, I don't care what you choose to do once the voting is over. You can leave for all I care and mope around in the Overland. Bit when you're down here, you owe a duty to this bloody city and I intend to watch you perform that duty."

"Why me?" Gregor wondered, "Why do I have to do all of the dirty work for this city?"

"Because you chose to," Ripred replied a little sadly, "Because you chose to return to this place, knowing that it only holds suffering and pain for you. Not a wise decision, Overlander. Sometimes, things are better off being the way they are."

With that, the old rat stretched in the air before slowly trudging out of the Council hall. "I'll give you a little while to consider my proposition," he said over his shoulder, "But make up your mind. Change is coming to Regalia soon, boy. And it's time you chose which side you're on."

* * *

 _Gregor opened his eyes as blinding light suddenly slammed into his eyes. He winced slightly but felt no acute pain in his eyes. Reopening them again, he saw the light slowly dim as an enormous figure ambled into view. The features of the room around him became more defined- the cavern walls, the blood-stained floor, some light trickling through a hole in the cavern. A lifeless body was propped up against a rock, and while Gregor didn't identify who it was immediately, he did see a pair of wings attached to the body of the figure._

" _You've nearly lost control of yourself three times in the space of an hour," a voice taunted him, "All because you couldn't keep your temper in check. Do you want to talk about it?"_

" _Not to you," Gregor replied scathingly, "You're the last person anybody should talk to."_

 _The Bane was now in full view, his white fur glistening brilliantly in the weak light filtering into the cavern. His eyes burned a bright red, reflecting his lust for blood. At least that's how Gregor remembered him. The delusional, bloodthirsty dictator of the gnawers who pretty much wanted to commit genocide. Gregor absolutely detested him, but this was when he truly needed a conversation. Just as much as the white rat was his bane, he was also Gregor's darkest ally. The Bane represented the bleaker, more chaotic and evil side of his personality. At least that was what Gregor had come to believe. Sometimes the Bane appeared a bit more life-like than gregor wanted him to be, and now was one of those instances. And during these instances, Gregor wondered whether the Bane was truly just a figment of his imagination, or something much more than that._

" _You've felt it intensify recently," the Bane continued, "You've even clashed with Ripred once today. At this rate, one of you will be dead by tomorrow."_

" _Wouldn't you be happy?" Gregor replied sardonically, "You make it sound as if it is a bad thing."_

" _Ripred mentioned that the both of you fighting each other is inevitable," the Bane recalled, "What are you going to do when that day comes? Because based on what I've seen and heard, that day is coming."_

" _I'll do what I do best," Gregor grunted, "I'll fight him."_

" _That's mighty specific," the Bane said sarcastically, "And on a similar topic, what're your thoughts on Gorger?"_

" _He's harmless for now," Gregor replied bluntly, "There's nothing he can do in that prison."_

" _You think Gorger is harmless? What world do you live in?" the Bane giggled, "That rat can do anything anywhere. And he can escape out of that prison if he truly wanted to. Hell the rat has even escaped the jaws of death right before they were going to snap shut on him. You saw the fall yourself. No ordinary rat could have saved himself the way Gorger did."_

" _It was a fluke," Gregor responded, "It just happened there was another rat near him so he could use that rat to break his fall. If he was falling down all on his own, he would never have made it."_

" _He had the brains to use a rat to break his fall," the Bane pointed out, "Then he feigned his death by lying there until all of you were gone. And then he somehow escaped from the pit, before being captured by the foxes. He was in their custody for six years, Warrior. No ordinary rat survives in the foxes' base of operations for so long and lives to tell the tale."_

" _He's under our custody now," Gregor replied confidently, "There's no way he can escape that cell. You and I have both seen it."_

" _Don't underestimate Gorger of all people, Warrior," the Bane warned him, "If he can escape the clutches of the schemers, then he can escape the prisons of Regalia too. It just depends on when he thinks it is worth it. And you better hope that time won't be soon."_

" _You concentrate on telling me why you are here," Grego replied, "I'll concentrate on watching over Gorger.'_

" _Perhaps you know the answer to your own question, Warrior," the Bane responded, "The only reason why I'm here is because of you."_

 _Gregor nodded slowly, before answering, "I don't know what to do next. Luxa's given up on me and I don't think she wants to talk. Ripred and I disagree with each other and there's no way I can convince him to change his mind. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. Maybe this is the moment I'm meant to leave this place."_

" _Yes it is," the Bane said with a sly grin, "But not the Underland. Leave Regalia and fly to the Fount. Find out what on earth is going on back there and find out what they are truly hoping to do. And don't forget to clear up that… misunderstanding with Stellovet."_

" _Sounds like a plan," Gregor agreed, but when he looked up, the Bane was gone._

* * *

Gregor's eyes shot open. Everything seemed obscure and hazy, but his vision finally settled and focused itself on Hazard's concerned face. "Why are you lying on the floor?" the young man asked candidly.

"I don't know," Gregor replied groggily, "I guess I'm just… tired."

"I heard Luxa's angry with you," Hazard told him matter-of-factly, "And I saw you and Ripred arguing. I heard some of the sensitive material you guys discussed too."

"How much did you hear?" Gregor asked, feeling the back of his head. His head felt so light it seemed as if he was hovering in the middle of the air

"Everything," Hazard confessed, "Can't say either of you are wrong."

"Mmm," Gregor grunted as he slowly got to his feet, "I got to go."

"To the Fount, right?" Hazard blurted out, and noticing the look of shock on Gregor's face he quickly added, "You were babbling about it while lying on the floor. You're not going there to consummate your marriage with Stellovet, are you?"

"NO!" Gregor exclaimed in disbelief, before softening his tone, "I'm doing quite the opposite. I need to clear up this political mess before anybody gets hurt. If Luxa gets voted off the throne… Ripred can expect a revolution too. We've got to find a way to end this shit before it starts."

"What do you need me to do?" Hazard called after him as Gregor jogged for the exit of the Council hall.

Gregor paused abruptly in his tracks. He turned around, gave Hazard a wink and said, "You can keep a secret, right?"

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Like previous chapters, not much action but the start of my stories generally do not have much action anyway. The story should start to become clearer as we progress, and I hope the dream sequence with the Bane helped to clear some things up, especially the way Gorger survived and found out more about the schemers. I'll be adding more details to this story as we go along, but I hope you are satisfied with this brief explanation so far. Also, there are two lines Ripred says in the previous series that I have included here. Have fun looking out for them!**

 **Oh, and in case it wasn't explicit enough, the Bane's scene with Gregor is a dream sequence. The Bane is a figment/projection of his imagination, and is o way actually an existing character in my story.**

 **Favourites and follows for this story are always welcome. Please remember to review too(if possible)!**

 **Question: Here's a fun one! In a fight where Ripred goes up against the Bane and Gorger, which side would win?**


	8. Chapter 8: An Old Mentor

**Hello everyone! Guess everybody's been real busy. The number of reviews that came in this week was far less than usual, but anyway I'd like to thank the people who did review my story. So thank you to: Clytuis, A happy reader, AresTheUnderlander, shadowofdarkness, HumanicHedgeHog, Darklord, Thiazzie, SlyIntellect and unknown. I hope more people can find the time to review this story, but I understand that life can get real intense so I'm not holding anything against you guys.**

 **Anyway, this chapter features Mr Carter, a character from the first story of this trilogy. If you haven't read it, you should, or you might not get some parts of this chapter. This chapter may also reflect on some darker themes, so do be prepared to feel a little depressed. I wouldn't, but I understand that somethings that are spoken about may reflect a bit too much on human nature.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: An Old Mentor**

Calvin gently placed the phone against the moist skin of his cheek, making a face at the soft squelching noise as it came into contact. He didn't know whether his face was wet from crying or the rain- based on the heavy downpour and the amount of tears shed, it was probably a combination of both. He fidgeted on the grimy seats, uncomfortable from the rough, uneven edges and the way it creaked when he sat on it. Calvin wasn't even a particularly heavy person, yet this chair was threatening to collapse under his weight any minute.

Sitting on the other side of the soundproof glass was Mr Carter. He wore a shapeless, colour-coded smock, his face hinting at the man he had become in his old age- a man who had become truly weathered from the harrowing experiences in life and in prison. Calvin couldn't resist wincing when he saw some partially faded scars lingering on his face and neck. If you weren't a criminal before you entered prison, you would be if you came out. If you weren't broken yet, you would be broken in there. If you still had your dignity intact, it would be stripped from you by the time you left the prison.

And it almost broke Calvin's heart to see his teacher and mentor looking so shattered and fragile- especially after a life of adventure and a roller-coaster ride of darkness and redemption. He should never have entered that prison because he didn't deserve it. Of all the good people still alive on this planet, Mr Carter would have been one of the last on the list if they were sent to prison.

Mr Carter seemed to notice Calvin staring at his scars, so he cleared his throat and picked up the phone on his side, before speaking in a voice so hoarse that it was almost unrecognisable "Don't worry about it. I've had much worse," he said reassuringly.

Calvin almost managed a smile as he greeted Mr Carter, "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has," Mr Carter agreed, "And I'm sure you have a lot to talk to me about. How has your training gone these last couple of months? Still keeping fit for the Underland?"

Calvin's face instantly fell, and he couldn't bear to meet Mr Carter's eyes as he answered, "I… I… I kinda stopped training Mr Carter. I haven't trained with a gun in two years, and I… I don't think I plan to pick a gun up ever again. I don't know if I'll ever go down there again."

He looked up sadly at Mr Carter, who seemed to reflect Calvin's emotions with an expression of sorrow. He cleared his throat again and replied, "It HAS been a while. When I last saw you, you were the hero of the Underland. Now you look like you've been living in the gutter for the last couple of months."

Mr Carter was right… Kind of. Calvin had been living in the metaphorical gutter- where his soul and purpose were slowly eroded by the rushing water of life. And the more life picked up its pace, the more weary and jaded Calvin became. Sometimes he wished for the rushing water to tear him down entirely and carry him along to a place he wouldn't expect or had never been to… But those were just dreams, illusions and false realities meant to cruelly give you hope where there was none. Calvin was an idealist living in a world where idealism was mocked, derided and long since dead. There was no place for idealism in this world- and even pseudo escapism in the form of the Underland could not protect him from the harsh and cruel world of reality.

"It's a pretty long story," Calvin told him, "You sure you want to hear the whole thing?"

"It can't be any worse than some of the stories I've heard in this prison," Mr Carter said with a shudder, "The worst part is that they talk about it in such gleeful way."

"I found Gregor," Calvin went straight to the point, "After I came back to the Overland I followed Nerissa's instructions to find him. And I did. We waited up here for almost a year, waiting for a sign which would call us back to the Underland. And then we did a couple of years ago. A vision from Nerissa to us telling us to go back. That's when I found out he was the Warrior."

"It took you nine months to figure out who he was?" Mr Carter replied incredulously, before apologetically adding, "Sorry about that. I just thought it would have been obvious to you the moment you saw him."

"I kinda figured there was something different about him," Calvin explained, a little miffed at Mr Carter's tone, "I just didn't figure out he was the Warrior. Anyway, we went back to the Underland and he got a hero's welcome. But that was also when shit started going down. Do you know who Edward is?"

"Mmm," Mr Carter responded, "I think I do, at least. I must have met him at least a couple of times when I went down there. He's one of Regalia's most prominent soldiers, if I am not wrong."

"You're not," Calvin confirmed, "He _was_ one of Regalia's most prominent soldiers, though. Conrad convicted him of treason and sentenced him to death. I'm sorry, Mr Carter. I couldn't save him."

"Don't apologise to me," Mr Carter snorted, "You didn't offend me at all by failing to save him. But this is tragic news. I assume this wasn't the end to all the drama over these last three years."

"You're right," Calvin continued, "Apparently Edward's death was the result of a culmination of conflicts between those who wanted to keep Conrad in power and those who wanted him out. It was pretty much a civil war in the city, and I don't think it has really ended yet. Before I left the city, there were rumours of rebel rats gathering to reinstate Conrad as king of Regalia."

"Reinstate?" Mr Carter exclaimed in surprise, "He abdicated?"

"Not quite," Calvin answered, "I'll get to that in a moment. What happened after Edward's execution is more important for now. The spiders, cockroaches and moles all banded together and wanted to invade Regalia, because they were being ignored by Conrad and left to suffer, especially after Temp died."

"A civil war on two fronts," Mr Carter mused, "The word 'chaotic' seems underwhelming in describing the situation."

"Damn right," Calvin agreed, "It was an absolute mess. I went off to handle the rebellion from the other species while Gregor stayed in Regalia to handle the local masses. It didn't end well for either of us."

Mr Carter's face fell slightly as he said, "As much as I don't want to hear this part, I suppose have to so that I can keep up with what's going on in your world."

Calvin nodded sadly and replied, "Yea, this part's kinda unavoidable. Hecate was bitten by a spider and I thought she… I thought she…"

Tears began to form in Calvin's eyes as the memories stabbed right through the centre of his heart. He forced down the emotion and choked out, "I thought she was dead. And she nearly… she nearly died. But Howard was able to save her. Gregor…" He trailed off again.

"It's ok if you're not ready to tell me," Mr Carter replied gently, "We can always meet another time to talk."

"No," Calvin said firmly, "The truth must be told. Gregor killed a kid no older than eight or nine years old. And after that… he kinda spiralled down a dark path. He said he never wanted to fight again for fear of harming those he cared about. He pretty much became scared of himself and what he could do."

"It is as I feared," Mr Carter said gravely, "I have heard stories of ragers that have lost control. There's a reason there were no ragers in the Underland before Gregor came down, with the exception of Ripred of course. According to Vikus, most ragers lost control and murdered their loved ones, which got them sentenced to death. And torn apart by guilt, they often didn't resist execution. If these people weren't executed, they took their own lives so that the moral arc of the universe would bend towards justice. Those that didn't die by the hand of the king became outcasts. Ragers are lepers down there, Calvin. People fear them for the monsters they are and while people might marvel at their feats initially, they will eventually be discriminated against by society. They're killing machines that are often misunderstood. And they are only useful as long as the citizens need them to be useful, because let's face it, humans are a fickle race. We might love someone on one day and brand him a monster the next day. We only love and appreciate things when everything is fine and rosy. But when everybody is together in the mud and when we are so desperate to pull ourselves out, we'll cast the weirdos out because we become frightened that they will hold us down in the mud. It's the sad truth that even Gregor cannot escape. He was a god who became a criminal in the eyes of the Regalians."

"Yea," Calvin concurred, "He kinda disappeared for a while after that. And in the meantime the damage was done to other colonies outside Regalia. Flavius launched his assault along with the help of Operation Claw, and they destroyed the bat colony, the mouse and rat colonies, and finally the Fount."

"Operation Claw," Mr Carter snarled, "Those bastards really did put their plan in action. Wait… if they destroyed all the colonies… that would leave… that would leave Regalia as the last standing city. Are you up here.. Are you up here because Regalia… No, it can't be. Tell me Regalia isn't gone. Tell me it isn't gone, Calvin."

"It isn't, Mr Carter," Calvin answered, earning a sigh of relief from Mr Carter, "Regalia is still standing today, even if it's on top of a shaky foundation. But anyway, whilst all this destruction was going on, Gregor was lured out by Conrad into a cave, and was ambushed by Flavius and the royal guard. He survived but was badly injured."

"Conrad," Mr Carter growled, "I always he knew deep down that he was a treacherous son of a bitch."

"That's not all," Calvin said grimly, "Mareth was with him. It was Mareth who completed the trick on Gregor, Mr Carter. Mareth betrayed him by telling him that Luxa was captured, and then had him surrounded in a cave."

Mr Carter's face displayed a spectrum of emotions- from intrigue, to devastating shock, and finally to horror and disappointment. "I had a lot of respect for Mareth," he said softly, "I wouldn't expect this kind of betrayal to come from him of all people. In the short time I spoke to him, I came to see him as an honourable man. Why, Calvin? Why did he do that?"

"Loyalty to Conrad," Calvin recalled, "And he was fooled into believing that Gregor had become a cold-blooded murderer. So Gregor was left to die, while Conrad and Mareth flew back to Regalia and told everybody that Gregor had died in battle. I was in the hospital at that time and I believed them. We all believed them. There was even a freaking funeral in his honour."

"And did he actually die?" Mr Carter asked, although his tone suggested he already knew the answer to the question.

"No," Calvin answered anyway, "He was badly injured, but Operation Claw saved him so that they could convince him to join them."

"Of course they would," Mr Carter said bitterly, "Convince a fellow Overlander to fight for his own race. Only they would be so despicable as to turn a good human being into a genocidal maniac."

"Gregor didn't fall for it," Calvin assured him, "Apollo was able to rescue him and get him out of there before they could kill him. He came back to Regalia to get Conrad arrested for high treason, but he nearly got himself killed in the process."

"Let me guess," Mr Carter said confidently, "He didn't have enough evidence to have Conrad arrested for treason."

"Damn, you got it spot on," Calvin replied, impressed at Mr Carter's guess, "He was saved by… wait for it… Mareth. Mareth redeemed himself by saving him."

Mr Carter's face lit up slightly as hope seemed to dawn in his eyes once again. "Looks like Mareth wasn't beyond saving," he remarked with a sigh, "I feel as if I've been on an emotional rollercoaster, and I wasn't even there to experience it."

"But even though Conrad was arrested and Gregor was saved," Calvin went on, "Regalia wasn't done yet. The civil war hadn't really ended, and it took both Ripred and me to stop the civil war in Regalia."

"So you did get involved after all," Mr Carter grinned, "I was starting to wonder whether you ended up being a fifth wheel in this whole saga."

"Very funny," Calvin replied sarcastically, although he couldn't suppress a small grin from breaking out, "But then news came that Regalia was about to become under siege by the foxes and Operation Claw. But we were nowhere close to ready and all our allies were down. So we gathered in the Council hall to decide whether to surrender to the foxes or to fight them to the death. There was kind of a consensus that we were all going to die at the end of the day. But out of nowhere, all the other species who had been fighting us earlier decided to unite with us. The spiders, the cockroaches, the moles, the bats, the rats, the mice and even the other humans from the Fount. Like, I don't even know how we would have made it without them. They all just seemed to unite together for one last stand against the foxes and Operation Claw. It was just… awesome. I got goosebumps from it."

"That must have been quite a scene," Mr Carter acknowledged, "And where does Gregor fit into all of this?"

"He decided not to fight," Calvin told Mr Carter with a slight grimace, "I tried to speak to him that night but he just wouldn't fight. He was just too frightened of hurting someone and paying the price for it. That night, the guilt of killing the kid really came back to haunt him."

"I saw that coming," Mr Carter admitted, "There can only be so many demons that we can live with. Sometimes there is no logic or reason to wipe away the guilt that we bear. It stays with us forever."

As he spoke, Mr Carter's face started to reveal the inner turmoil within him as he closed his eyes and his jaw tightened. Calvin looked down in sorrow as well. So this was what it was like- living with the guilt of the people you killed every day. No matter how much good you did in the end, it was never enough to cleanse you of the most abhorrent, disgusting sins you had committed. Calvin was once someone who never had to bear that cross, but now he truly felt for Gregor. Now he truly knew the difficulty of having to live through every single day with the knowledge that someone else wasn't able to, because of what he did. He was going through that very experience.

And then Calvin looked up and found himself staring straight at Vikus.

His heart slammed against his chest as he scrambled backwards, knocking the chair over in the process. All his senses became dull as his eyes were focused straight at Vikus. Vikus' eyes seemed to be staring straight into the blackness of Calvin's soul as the old man placed a bloodstained hand on the glass. His eyes were devoid of that kindly twinkle and it was now replaced with dark anger and rage. Calvin had to stifle a scream as Vikus pulled out a gun and aimed it right at Calvin's head. Calvin instantly groped around, looking for his gun, before realising he had left it back in the Underland.

Vikus gave him a cold, spine-chilling smile as his pale white finger tightened around the trigger.

"Sir, are you alright? Is the inmate troubling you?" a security guard asked.

Calvin quickly regained his composure to reply, "No. Not at all. I was um… I just was trying to get myself in a better position." He noticed two other prison wardens standing nearby, their hands instantly wrapped around the gun at their waist. No surprises there. Mr Carter was once a deadly assassin, and they weren't going to take any chances with him if he was threatening another person's life.

The security guard eyed Calvin suspiciously, before believing him and backing off. Calvin placed the phone back at his ear and quickly apologised, "I'm sorry about that, Mr Carter. I didn't intend for you to get into trouble."

"You saw me as someone else, didn't you?" Mr Carter asked concernedly, "I saw it in your eyes. The fear and the guilt."

"I'll explain that in a bit," Calvin replied, taking in a deep breath and soothing his frayed nerves, before continuing, "Where did I stop?"

"On Gregor not wanting to fight," Mr Carter answered.

"Oh yea," Calvin remembered now, "About that. I left him in that room and didn't bother him after that. Flavius then arrived at our gates and to cut a long story short, we began to fight. And they were winning. They were able to flood the city and take control of at least half of it. Most of us were either dead or had gathered at the foot of the palace. Yea, that was supposed to be the end of us. We were massively outnumbered and outfought, even with Ripred's planning as a general."

"So that's how large their army is," Mr Carter realised, "They even outnumbered the Regalians."

"Yea," Calvin said with a sigh, "I think that's the moment where I kinda lost all hope. I just… I just didn't see us making it through. And then it happened. I don't know what Gregor was thinking or doing in his room the whole time, but he changed his mind and did a hundred and eighty-degree turn. Just as we were about to be overrun, he comes flying out and leads a heroic charge against the foxes and Operation Claw. And before we know it, the tide of the battle has turned in our favour."

"Now I didn't see that coming," Mr Carter confessed, "To be able to bear so much guilt and yet to find the strength to confront your fears and fly into battle… now that is courage. I would never have been able to do what Gregor did. I admit I had my doubts about him, and I questioned why your father had so much belief and faith in the idea that Gregor would end up becoming Regalia's saviour. But I clearly stand corrected. My respect for Gregor has just increased tenfold."

"Yea," Calvin agreed wholeheartedly, "That was the definition of awe-inspiring. We were actually winning. We actually found the belief and the confidence to pull this whole shit in our favour. And then suddenly, a bunch of Overlanders were sent to go and free Conrad from the prison. They killed Gnasher and a couple of other gnawers before freeing him. And although i tried to stop it, I really couldn't. I needed Mareth to save me from being killed by the Overlanders. But I let Conrad escape, Mr Carter. And Conrad ended up killing Mareth. Mareth sacrificed himself to save Gregor, but it's my fault that he was even put in that position"

Mr Carter now looked truly upset and dejected. "So he's dead," Mr Carter sighed softly, "No wonder there've been nights when the cold air has haunted me and the night sky seems to have cried. Do not blame yourself Calvin. This was entirely unavoidable and nobody expected you to do anything about it."

"There's worse," Calvin told him, "I tracked down the rest of Operation Claw to the High hall, where I met Snake, the guy who killed my dad."

"Tell me you killed that son of a bitch," Mr Carter said coldly.

"I tried to," Calvin said with a downcast face, "But he survived in the end. He told me he wanted to spare me. And I had no reason not to believe him. He had so many opportunities to have me killed but he deliberately had me spared. And he told me that my father thought of the Underland as an uncivilised and barbaric place. He said that my father thought that the governmental system was appalling? Mr Carter, tell me the truth. Did he really say that?"

Mr Carter sighed and looked like he was praying for a miracle to explain this to Calvin. "It's true," he said slowly, "Your father did not think highly of the Underland initially. When he first came up he thought about whether they were worth saving. Your father is a true supporter of democracy and I think you know that he would have disapproved of Regalia's autocratic system. That being said, upon further visits he finally realised the beauty of the Underland and all its inhabitants. And for all his gripes with the lack of democracy down there, I think the most undemocratic thing to do would be to have it exterminated by Operation Claw."

"Hmm…" Calvin thought long and hard about Mr Carter's words, before saying, "So why did Snake spare me? I still can't answer that question."

"Assassins killing others may be a part of their job description, but they are also still humans," Mr Carter told Calvin, "At the end of the day, some of us still have a conscience and deep in that conscience we still have this notion that killing children is something downright unacceptable, especially vulnerable children like you. I think that this fellow that you've mentioned… What is his name again? Snake, is it? Our dear Mr Snake has clearly realised that he robbed you of your childhood by killing your father, and he doesn't intend to rob you of your life too. Deep down there is a goodness in him holding him back from killing you. And that's why you're still alive today."

When Calvin didn't react, he cleared his throat and added, "I was once an assassin myself, as you know by now. Most of us had gone through training in Tibet and Nepal under this leader of an organisation that has long since gone dark. It operates at the highest discretion and they are almost everywhere. Their goal was simple- to bring balance to the world and introduce justice. Yet here they were, training cold-blooded assassins to take the life of others! Life isn't a simple black and white zone. It has grey areas, and this leader clearly sought to use this grey area to create an army to bring balance to Mother Earth. Some of us called him the Demon, but we might as well have also called him the Angel."

"So Snake is actually a good person," Calvin said slowly, trying to comprehend what he was saying, "I don't know, Mr Carter. I don't know, especially after what happened."

"What happened?" Mr Carter asked.

"He was holding Vikus, Nerissa, Hero and Hazard hostage," Calvin replied, "And I suddenly went on this crazy killing and shooting spree and now… now Vikus is dead. I killed him, Mr Carter. I saw my bullets fly right through his body. Snake tricked me into killing the one man who still gave Regalia hope. And I let him trick me into killing Vikus. God, I don't even want to imagine what Luxa thinks of me now."

"So that's what you were scared of just now," Mr Carter realised, "You saw me as Vikus. That's why you backed away in fright. You're being haunted by your actions, just like Gregor was."

Calvin nodded miserably and said, "It's not the first time. I've always had this feeling of his ghost lingering nearby, waiting to ambush me and take revenge for what I did. And I'd gladly let him take my life, but that's not what the ghost wants. The ghost wants to torture me with the knowledge of my guilt. And it's guilt that I can't get rid of, no matter how hard I've tried. We won the battle that day, Mr Carter. But in exchange for the victory, I traded my soul in to the devil."

"That ghost does not exist," Mr Carter said firmly, "because even if Vikus was half the man I once knew him to be, he would never ever dream of haunting you. The ghosts you see are all created by you, Calvin. The only way you're going to destroy Vikus' ghost is to come to peace with it and come to peace with the mistakes you made, just like how Gregor did."

"Maybe I don't want that," Calvin said sadly, "Maybe I want it to continue haunting me to remind me that I should never pick up my guns ever again and that I should never ever take another life. I gave my guns up to the Underland's museum and I've sworn never to take someone's life ever again. And I swear that if I break that rule I don't deserve to live anymore. I'll kill myself."

"Don't take things to the extreme, Calvin," Mr Carter warned him, "Sometimes there is collateral damage. Sometimes you kill, and maybe it's worth it. Sometimes you accidentally cause someone to die, which is what happened between you and Vikus. It isn't your fault because we're all human and we all make mistakes."

"But if I tell myself I can kill," Calvin reasoned, "That'll set me down a dark path where I just won't stop killing, because that's the only solution I know. It'll make me a criminal, just like Snake. I wouldn't be any better than the top criminal on a pile of dead criminals."

"Even if we accept that," Mr Carter responded, "There's no reason to use Vikus as a reminder. There's no need to torture yourself psychologically. Other people are going to do that to you but you shouldn't weaken yourself mentally to let them get to you. You're going to face much worse. You're going to face new fears and you're going to go through much more emotional stress. But in the end, you have to pull yourself up stronger, not let yourself sink even deeper because Vikus is dragging you down."

Calvin nodded his head in understanding, before concluding, "That's my story. I left the Underland for good because that place holds nothing but… bad memories for me. Maybe I'll meet them again one day, but not in the near future. Once I came back from the Underland it's just been a complete freaking mess. I face university applications and calls for me to take up my father's company, which has apparently gone to shit in his absence. I don't know what to do next. I want to be out there fighting, but I also don't want to hurt anybody ever again. It's not in my blood to be a weak billionaire."

"Sometimes the world doesn't give you what you want," Mr Carter said with an edge of tiredness in his tone, "But that isn't important. What is important is using what you have at the moment and making the best out of it. Emotionally you may not have much, but physically you do. And that always means there is hope for you out there."

"Well, I haven't seen any sign of hope these last two years," Calvin said bitterly, "I've been so busy that I haven't made the change I've wanted to make. I just got into a fight with Mr Bennett and I've literally screamed at my parents' graves in the pouring rain. That's what happened today alone. And now that I've become just so… confused and… and lost, I drove all the way here to speak to you. I've always wanted to give you your privacy here, but I'm sorry. It's just been a living hell for me and I need to stop sliding down this shit. So here I am, asking you to help me."

"You've given me a lot to digest," Mr Carter told Calvin, "And not a lot of time to process it. What I can say is that there are ways out of this problem, but you won't like all of them. I'm sorry Calvin, but if you were looking for a quick and simple solution, I can't give you one. But give me some time to think. Come back in… let's say a week. I do know contacts who could possibly help you. It will be a difficult experience for you, but it will change you for good. And it will be a little secret between the two of us."

Calvin actually felt intrigued for the first time in a long time. "Secret?" he pressed on.

"I'm not telling you today," Mr Carter said with a knowing smile, "Give me a while to mull over this. You'll know by next week the choices I have for you."

"Well then… I guess this is it," Calvin said with a sigh, "It's been good to see you again."

"Thanks for coming down," Mr Carter said in reply, "Sometimes it gets lonely here."

"One last question," Calvin said, "Where can I find Operation Claw in the Overland?"

"You can't," Mr Carter answered grimly, "From what I know and hear, they were planning to design a military base in the Underland."

So this was it. Regalia was truly at war with Operation Claw in a battle to the death. And Calvin couldn't do anything about it.

"Bye, Mr Carter," Calvin said glumly.

Just as he was about to get up and leave, Mr Carter said the three words to him that he had been waiting to hear for a long time.

"Fly you high."

* * *

 **As you have probably realised, this chapter is supposed to serve as a recap for the previous story and introduce Mr Carter back into this series. He won't be playing a pivotal role, but by the end of the story you'll see how it impacts Calvin. I've dropped a huge number of teasers and hidden spoilers in this chapter, so I urge you not to think about it until the end of the story, when all will be revealed. Also, if you've been suspicious enough to catch on to some of the stuff here and come to a shock conclusion, I URGE you not to reveal anything in the reviews. PLEASE. If you think it's remotely spoilery, please don't do it. Thank you.**

 **As usual, favourites/follows are greatly appreciated, and please continue reviewing this story!**

 **Question: Do you want Mr Carter to become a valuable part of this story? Do you want him to showcase his skills and add to the storyline? Please let me know so I have something to consider!**


	9. Chapter 9: Hunting for Answers

**Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews that have come in. If you still haven't reviewed the previous 2 chapters(7 and 8), I plead with you to do so because then I have a proper set of feedback for the last 2 chapters and I can then make the necessary adjustments to my story based on what you guys think. Anyway, here goes: Thank you to FierceDeity24, Clytuis, A happy reader, Lololol(don't worry, I'm keeping that ship in mind), MarbleSky, TheGreatAthlon5, Darklord, AresTheUnderlander, SlyIntellect, mcmlxxvii, HumanicHedgeHog and pyro159. So yea, guys please let me know your thoughts on the last few chapters please if you haven't done so already. These are pivotal moments in the story and I'd like to hear your opinions.**

 **This chapter lacks action, but it should be able to add some layers of complexity to this story and establish some of the events that are to come. And of course, it features interesting conversations between Gregor and some people. So I hope you enjoy this chapter. Trust me, the action is coming soon, and it will come hard and fast.**

 **This chapter is from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Hunting for Answers**

Gregor opened the doors to the armoury, which had become a complete mess following the battle against the foxes. Blood-stained chest plates were strewn across the floor, gauntlets were scattered all over the place and broken helmets had been casually tossed about all over the place. It quite literally looked like a war zone. Gregor gingerly stepped forward, trying to avoid stepping on the grimy and sweaty armour, while trying not to think about the bright red stains streaked across various pieces of armour. He wouldn't be surprised if he found a dead body around here.

After every battle, Miravet would be sitting in this room, slowly and arduously scrubbing each and every piece of armour. She was the soldier of the armoury and she took it upon herself to clean every last piece of armour, whether it was going to be worn again or not. Sometimes Gregor wondered how such a frail woman had the courage to look upon the pain that the soldiers faced and meet it with a warm smile.

He finally made his way over to his private corner, which was out of bounds to everyone except Miravet and him. He still had his sword with him- it had become a habit to carry it around, with the sheath of the blade hitched to his belt. But in battle, he never used this belt because it was far too flimsy. He took off his sword and placed it gently on the bench, before unbuckling his belt and taking it off. Then he opened the cupboard doors.

The black armour scowled back at him. It had left relatively unscathed from the battle but in truth that was a rarity. Gregor always threw himself into the thick of the fighting and that often got him an injury or two, which meant that Miravet always had to mend this armour. But every single time she mended it, she added a new layer of fear and power to it, infusing it with a terrifying, indomitable edge whether it was through making the spikes on the gauntlet sharper, or making the mask more frightening, or increasing the size of the suit to make him seem even bulkier.

And then there was the cloak. The flowing cape of the cloak was a combined effort from the both of them, with Gregor assisting in the designing of the cloak and attaching it on to the armour. It made him seem like a leader of men or even the grim reaper. It almost gave him power.

So that was why superheroes wore capes or cloaks. It made them more imposing and gave them a sense of authority. And as the superhero of the Underland, it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that Gregor jumped onboard the idea of having a cloak. The cape of the cloak wasn't too long though, because it wasn't practical for him to have a cape so long that it hindered his ability to fight. And then there was the hood of the cloak- Gregor had never put it on before, but he had no doubt that wearing the hood would make him appear no less menacing in his ebony armour.

He instantly let muscle memory do its work as he instinctively fit on his armour. Within three or four minutes, Gregor had already put on most of his armour. He fit on his gauntlets and adjusted them, feeling the edges of his spikes with admiration. He had fallen in love with his armour, and treated it like a golden crown amidst an ocean of dull waste. Luxa had some cool armour, and Apollo's specialised armour was pretty badass too, but they both fell short when compared to the sheer ferocity of his obsidian suit. His fingers wandered over to the engraving on the chest plate, which to the naked eye was just a faint outline of the symbol of Regalia. But Gregor knew that in small letters, the word "Warrior" had been carved in. He adjusted his cloak to make it more evenly balanced, before reaching out for the dark and imposing mask.

"And where are you going, young man?" a voice behind him asked.

"Does it really matter?" Gregor sighed, turning around to face Miravet, who was looking more haggard and weary than ever. Yet behind that veil of exhaustion, Gregor could see a heart of gold. Miravet was nothing like her sister- she was kind, compassionate, and far from ruthless. Sometimes Gregor wondered whether Solovet was once like Miravet, but was forced to harden herself for the nature of her job.

"I haven't cleaned your armour yet," Miravet reminded him, "So unless there is an emergency going on, you ought to stay here and let me finish cleaning your armour. And it is the protocol of a Regalian soldier not to fly off without permission, which I assume is what you plan to do. So, young man, I think I do have the right to know where you are going."

Could he trust Miravet? Yes, yes he could. She was wise and trustworthy enough to keep a secret, and there really was no point in beating around the bush either. "I'm going to the Fount," he told her blatantly, "I have to find out what they're trying to do. And I need to find out why Susannah approved of Stellovet's marriage with me. It doesn't make sense and I need to know what is seriously going on."

"Oh yes," Miravet said sadly, "I heard about Luxa and… you. To be frank, I do not believe you and Stellovet did… anything. But Luxa has taken it very hard. The rumour of the breakdown in your relationship has spread around the city like a wildfire. I am sure that almost every household knows about this drama by now. And once again, I will be frank with you. I do not think Luxa and you are ever going to become a couple again. It is going to take a lot of faith and dedication from the both of you to rebuild that relationship. I do not know if Luxa is willing to commit that faith to you. You know she is not the type to forgive easily."

"If I can explain myself to her," Gregor wondered aloud, "If I can prove nothing happened…"

"Maybe," Miravet said, sounding just as hopeful as him, "My grandniece does not hear what she does not want to hear. If she firmly believes it is true, it is a Sisyphean task to convince her otherwise."

"Yea," Gregor replied sadly, "I know. But I have to try. If I give up now, I'm never getting her back again. And I don't know if I can live around her knowing I broke her heart."

"I see," Miravet said slowly, "So you are going to the Fount in search of answers. She might see that as an attempt to pressure Stellovet into lying and claiming that your night with her never happened. Luxa is paranoid in that way."

"That's why she can never know I flew to the Fount," Gregor explained, "If she does, she'll suspect me of pressuring Stellovet immediately. Only you and Hazard know that I'm going there. And I guess Apollo will know too, since he's going to be the one to fly me there."

"Speaking of Apollo," Miravet suddenly interrupted, "Another rumour circulating around is that you will become bonds with him. Is that true and are you thinking about it?"

"I have thought about it," Gregor answered hesitantly, "But I don't know if I can bond with him. My relationship with Ares was special and… I just don't know if I can treat Apollo the same way. Like… it doesn't feel the same. I don't know how to describe it, but… I don't want to deny Apollo the full treatment I could possibly give, when others can give him infinitely better treatment. I will always hold back slightly because of Ares and I don't want to subject Apollo to that. It's not fair to him and he shouldn't have to live with that. And then… well… I don't want him to get too close to me. I just think that… and deep down I kinda know this is true… I think that I can't let him get too close to me. Cos' if I do… He'll be hurt. People who get too close to me often get hurt. Even Luxa, as we've all seen."

"Don't think like that," Miravet told him, "Don't be afraid of hurting the people around you, because you are NOT. Of all the good people in Regalia, you are one of the best, Gregor. Do not conflate the suffering of the people around you as being evidence of how being near you hurts them. Everybody in Regalia gets hurt. And it is certainly not because of you."

"You don't know that," Gregor said darkly, "Ares is dead because of me. I destroyed my family because I lost my temper and became desperate. I killed Damien a couple of years back, and now Calvin has left the Underland. Mareth is dead because of me too, and Luxa's heart is broken because I didn't have the strength to fend Stellovet off when she was trying to sleep with me. There's one recurring problem in all these situations, Miravet… and the problem is me."

"My dear boy," she replied firmly, "This is not your fault. It is the Bane's fault, it is Conrad's fault, it is Flavius' fault, it is the fault of those insane Overlanders trying to destroy our home and it is Stellovet's fault. It is not your fault at all. And you have to start accepting that in order to become a better person. Stop being afraid of who you are and rejoice in what you have become. You are a courageous and virtuous young man, Gregor. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks Miravet," Gregor said gratefully, as his heart felt a bit warm and fuzzy from her words, "I really appreciate it. I gotta go now though. The longer I have disappeared, the more people are going to wonder where I am and they're going to start putting two and two together."

"Yes, indeed," Miravet agreed, "Stay safe. Whatever you decide to do there, try not to resort to violence. There will be many questions asked if Regalia's greatest soldier suddenly launches an invasion against the Fount. And your reputation will be tarnished forever."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gregor replied, as he reached out for his mask. It almost seemed to be calling out to him, begging for him to become a part of it and for it to become a part of him. This wasn't any mere helmet. This was a symbol of fear, a physical manifestation of terror. He quickly felt around the mask to make sure the self-constructed voice modulator was working. It wasn't one of those technological Overlander modulators, but Miravet had installed some weird equipment near the mouth area that made his voice sound deeper and grittier. Of course it wasn't as effective as the actual ones you found in the Overland, but it was enough to add another level of fear to his appearance.

He fit on the mask and adjusted it to fit his head nicely. He glanced at himself in one of the small mirrors in the corner of the room and smiled. Till this day, he still marvelled at his appearance in the armour as if it was his first time ever. "Even I get scared when I see you in that armour," Miravet joked.

Gregor turned around and said gently, "Goodbye, Miravet. Thanks for… thanks for everything you said. I really needed that."

"Fly you high, Gregor," Miravet replied, "And be careful."

* * *

Gregor quietly made his way down a couple of streets, before settling down one of the long streets leading to the arena. The light weight of his armour and its black colour helped Gregor to stealthily make his way through the shadows, but he always had to be careful. The rats may not be able to see him, but they could definitely smell him out if he made any of them suspicious. Hopefully, Hazard would have passed the message on to Apollo to meet him on this street. Most people were sleeping at the moment, so if there was a time and place to leave, it would be now.

He heard the light flapping of wings and breathed out a soft sigh of relief when Apollo landed next to him as quietly as he possibly could. Gregor wordlessly climbed back on top of him, and Apollo launched himself into the air and silently flew out of Regalia. Gregor was aware that a few of the guards would have spotted him leaving, but once again he had asked Hazard to relay the message to them to say nothing about it and to pretend it never happened. He knew he was taking a huge risk by trusting them, but he didn't have much of a choice here.

Apollo flew for about ten minutes in silence, and when he was sure that no one else was listening or following them, he said, "I would have brought my armour if I knew you were going to fight."

"You're not going to fight with me," Gregor informed him, "This is between me and the Fount. You're just going to drop me there and stay around the area. You know the signal, right?"

"Three sharp whistles," Apollo answered confidently, "Worry not, Warrior, my ears will be on high alert. I will know when you are calling me for help. But if I may ask, what is this mission for?"

"I need answers," Gregor answered simply, "The Fount is going to give them to me."

"What kind of answers?" Apollo asked inquisitively.

"Why they are so intent on allying themselves with the rebel gnawers, for instance," Gregor replied, "And then there's Susannah's approval of Stellovet's marriage to me. I don't know Susannah, but I'm pretty sure that something fishy is going on. There's no way that she would just randomly approve of a marriage suddenly, especially if she hasn't spoken to me about it."

"Something… fishy?" Apollo asked, not quite understanding what it meant.

"Overlander turn of phrase," Gregor explained, "It basically means something weird is going on behind our backs."

"Weird?" Apollo asked, clearly confused by the terminology Gregor was using.

"Forget it," Gregor sighed in exasperation, "All you need to know is that the Fount is arousing suspicion, and I'm going to find out what they are hiding exactly."

"That is true," Apollo acknowledged, "Their behaviour has been very suspicious, but I think it is because they are in the middle of a transitionary phase. If you ask me, Warrior, I actually think they are confused about what they should and can do. And in this confusion, they have allied themselves to a force they do not fully understand. The Fount is not made up of bad people, Warrior. They are our brothers and sisters, and I highly doubt they would be so eager to go to war against us without good reason."

"True," Gregor admitted, "But I can't just dismiss this as confusion. Susannah is a smart woman and I don't think she would be so quick to marry Stellovet to me."

"So this is what it is about," Apollo realised, "This mission is to find out why Stellovet proposed to you and revealed her little indiscretion with you to the Council."

"Stellovet is stupid," Gregor said slowly, "But I don't know why she would do that in front of everyone. And I don't understand why they didn't look for my consent before suddenly declaring that Stellovet is married to me. I just don't know what is going on, and I hate not knowing."

"So do I," Apollo responded, "For me the most frustrating thing about the Fount is its decision to ally with the rebel gnawers and their insistence on continuing it at the expense of their relationship with Regalia. We are clearly superior in so many aspects to the rebels, which means that they are either offering the Fount so much or… the Fount has just become completely disillusioned with Regalia's power, to the point where it is almost absurd."

"Is it really absurd?" Gregor asked, recalling his conversation with Ripred, "Regalia has been so used to having a monarch in complete control that it has become blind to the failings of its leaders. I mean, look at Conrad. Is it really impossible to believe that in the future we will have another monarch like him? The problem isn't Regalia, Apollo. The problem is the system, and if this system continues then there could be dozens of Conrads taking to the throne in the future."

"I thought you are on Luxa's side," Apollo pointed out, "I thought you wanted to defend her from Ripred's new plans for democracy."

"Yea," Gregor said slowly, "I guess I did say that."

"Warrior," Apollo sighed, "Perhaps it is not my place to tell you what is right and what is wrong. But I do think it is necessary for me to warn you about your… your decisions. You cannot be both on Ripred's side and Luxa's side. You're going to have to make a decision. And I think it is starting to become quite clear that Ripred is trying to change Regalia for the better."

"What do you mean?" Gregor asked uneasily.

"I think what I'm trying to say," Apollo replied, "Is that you have to decide whether your loyalty resides in Regalia or Luxa. I never try to see things as dilemmas or dichotomies, but I do not think you have much of a choice here. Either you serve as the soldier of Regalia, willing to do anything in order to preserve its existence, or you serve as Luxa's partner, willing to do anything in order to protect her from any forces of danger, a list which includes Ripred. I think you have to start deciding your identity now, or you will be torn apart when it comes to deciding what to do."

Apollo was absolutely right. It was the question that Gregor had been too scared to answer and the decision he was too frightened to make. He always wanted to be both the soldier and the partner, but he had always known that there would come a day where both interests would clash with each other. And today was that day.

"I guess," Gregor responded, "I guess when push comes to shove I did promise to fight for Regalia. But Luxa… she's the one who kept me going all these years. It was the thought of returning to her that… I don't know, it kinda fuelled my passion to fight for this place. Without her… I don't find much meaning down here. That's the sad truth, I guess. Sometimes I just wish I died the perfect death down here, so that I don't have to worry about her anymore."

"What is that perfect death?" Apollo asked.

"I don't really know," Gregor admitted, "I guess the perfect death wouldn't be in the middle of a bloody battle field, but somewhere quiet. Somewhere… almost serene and peaceful. I guess the death would have to be pretty quick too. And I would preferably be surrounded by the people I love most."

"That is a lot to ask for down here," Apollo joked.

"I know," Gregor replied with a soft chuckle, "But we all have a right to be hopeful, yea?"

"Aye," Apollo said wistfully, "Sometimes hope is all we have left in our darkest moments."

They stayed silent for a while as the cool air rolled across his face and the silence weighed heavily on his heart, before Gregor said, "Ripred said… he said that me fighting him would be inevitable."

"Agreed," was Apollo's terse reply.

"What?" Gregor blurted, "You think… you think I would fight him?"

"You would if you had good reason to," Apollo pointed out, "There is an animalistic instinct in all of us that we cannot ignore. Sometimes our brain overcomes it, but sometimes we succumb to the most basic of instincts. For instance, the need to establish ourselves as the alpha male has never truly left us. When Ares was getting all the attention for becoming Henry's bond, I was secretly jealous of him even though he was my good friend. And then when he fell down into disgrace and anonymity, I felt an unusual sense of relief that everybody had stopped buzzing on about him. We don't like to be under the dominion of someone else. We prefer to be in control. And that is precisely why you and Ripred will clash one day."

"What… what do you mean?" Gregor urged Apollo to carry on.

"The Underland has always valued a rager," Apollo explained, "And there are at least four of you down here right now. An Overlander gunner, a schemer, a gnawer and an Overlander sword fighter. All of you are the closest we have to invincible beings. And that means we will always look up to you as demigods or deities. For you ragers, the pursuit for this admiration will drive each of you against each other, because you would have succumbed to the instinct of establishing yourselves as the alpha male. Which means that once you have a reason to fight each other, you will do so in order for one of you to become the alpha male of the Underland. Sometimes you just cannot resist that urge to fight each other to see who is the top of the top. And believe me, that day is coming soon. Especially now that you and Ripred seem to subscribe to different ideologies on how this city should be run."

"I don't want to fight him," Gregor said softly, "I swear I don't want to fight him."

"You don't want to fight him yet," Apollo sighed, "But when the chips start to fall, and when your world begins to crumble around you, you become an entirely different person. You become a person full of rage, a person full of hate… a person who would do anything to anyone in a moment of weakness."

"I wouldn't," Gregor said weakly.

"Like I said," Apollo replied, "Not yet. But we both know the anger issues you have been facing recently. Remember two weeks ago? Back in the arena? I could literally smell the rage all over you, and we fliers are generally not very adept at smelling your emotions. But I could see it burning brightly deep within your heart. You might as well have had steam pouring out of your ears, because you and I both know you were willing to kill that soldier."

"He was being deliberately violent during training," Gregor replied, "It was just a moment of weakness."

"Exactly!" Apollo said triumphantly, "That's all it takes- one moment of weakness. And then the Lord of the gnawers takes on the legendary Warrior of Regalia in a battle to the death. And at the end of the day… one rager will still be standing, while the other would have fallen."

"So that's how it is, huh?" Gregor sighed bitterly, "The fall of ragers will determine who the alpha male of the Underland is."

"That is the sad truth for you, I am afraid," Apollo said sympathetically, "On the other hand, it is great news for me. I get front row seats to all your gladiator matches against the other ragers."

"Very funny, Apollo," Gregor said sarcastically, "Very funny."

"But in all honesty Warrior," Apollo added, his tone changing from being light-hearted to dead serious, "If you were to fight Ripred, all you need is to whistle three times, and I will be there in a heartbeat. You can take great comfort in knowing I will always be on your side, even when you are tussling with Ripred, or um… Luxa, for that matter."

"Well, thanks I guess," Gregor said awkwardly, "But I don't think I will be fighting with Luxa anytime soon."

"You never know, Warrior," Apollo replied, "Especially with your relationship in tatters at the moment, an argument turning physical would not exactly be unforeseen. You would not be setting a precedent for partners battling each other, anyway. There were plenty of rumours that Conrad threatened to get physical with queen Luxa whenever she was unwilling to… sleep with him."

"But they always slept in the same room," Gregor pointed out with a frown.

Apollo shook his head. "Not that sleep… I am talking about _that_ sleep, for lack of a better phrase."

When Gregor realised what Apollo was trying to say, he almost turned bright red with embarrassment at what Apollo was implying. "Well," Gregor said, "That's comforting."

"If you wouldn't mind me asking…" Apollo stuttered, "Were there plans for you… how do I put this… for you and Luxa to… well.. Not just consummating a marriage… but to have… have an heir as well?"

Apollo looked real flustered as he struggled to force the sentence out in the most polite manner possible. Gregor was so amused he almost broke out into laughter, but he decided to spare Apollo and himself the sheer embarrassment, so he replied stoically, "Our private life is our private life. I'll tell you if we ever have a baby."

"Understood," Apollo said immediately, and he fell silent.

"How long more till we get to the Fount?" Gregor asked him.

"Well," Apollo answered, "I would estimate another two hours. Depending on my flight path it could be less or more. Just get some rest, Warrior. You look like you need it."

Gregor nodded and his heavy eyelids finally pounced on the opportunity to slam shut…

* * *

" _Well well well," came a voice from the shadows, "Look who is back again."_

 _Gregor opened his eyes and almost flinched when the Bane sauntered out of the shadows, revealing his grotesque appearance. Across their several meetings his appearance had developed occasionally, and now he was sporting a face which had half of its skin peeled off, revealing his rotting skull underneath._

" _I'm here for some sleep," Gregor said wearily, "I'm not here to entertain you."_

" _But I came here to entertain YOU," the Bane answered with a look of confusion._

" _And I don't need any entertainment, thank you very much," Gregor replied stoutly._

" _Maybe you need advice," the Bane suggested, "I can give you advice. I am here to stimulate your thought process. You can either choose to do that or slide back down the road of having to watch Ares die over and over again. I'm assuming those nightmares weren't very pleasant, were they?"_

" _You don't say," Gregor snorted, "So you came here to tell me stuff I already know."_

" _Whatever I'm telling you is stuff you already know," the Bane reminded him, "I'm just helping you to think. People like Lizzie don't need dreams in order to fuel their thought process. They're generally naturally smart. On the other hand… you need me to help you, especially when you are desperate."_

" _Since you know me so well," Gregor replied, "Why don't you tell me how I should handle Luxa? Or whether I should give up on her? Or how to decide whether to fight for Regalia or her? Or how to prevent myself from fighting Ripred?"_

 _"All very simple questions," the Bane answered, "You're just not thinking hard enough. You should continue trying to improve your relationship with Luxa instead of giving up on her. As for fighting for Regalia or her, I would say it depends on the next few days. Watch what the situation is like before deciding who to side with. And finally, I think it's highly unlikely you can prevent yourself from fighting Ripred. Ta da! All questions answered with_ _aplomb_ , _if I may say so myself."_

 _"You actually only answered one of my questions," Gregor pointed out, "Which is the first one on how I should handle Luxa. I've pretty much decided on that anyway. I'm looking for the answers to the other two questions."  
_

" _Well, if I'm not answering them it isn't my fault," the Bane insisted indignantly, "It's because you haven't even bothered to think about it and form your own decision, you spineless piece of shit. Everything I've said so far is a reflection of your thought process and what you want."_

" _Well then, you're useless to me right now," Gregor said._

" _We're almost here," the Bane said suddenly._

" _What?" Gregor asked, confused by the sudden question._

* * *

"We're almost in the Fount," Apollo told him as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Has it really been two hours?" Gregor asked groggily as he stretched to get his muscles ready for battle.

"It has been more than that," Apollo informed him, "It has probably been closer to three hours. I had to take a series of twists and turns down a couple of caves because there were some fliers nearby who nearly caught sight of us. But yes, we'll be over the Fount in a minute or so."

Gregor squinted and could see the outline of the Fount in the distance. The rushing stream that was just outside the city's walls, the vines that coiled themselves around parts of the city's walls… the Fount was beautiful in its own way. It lacked the grandeur and magnificence of Regalia's arches and great buildings, but for a stone city half of Regalia's size it did look pretty impressive, with its intricate design. Gregor could just about make up the palace where York's family resided, a stone building which looked more like an ancient Mayan temple than a palace of kings. That was where he was headed to find answers.

Apollo dipped towards one of the city's walls, which had been left criminally exposed. "Ready?" Apollo asked him.

"I'm ready," Gregor replied. There was a lone soldier on the wall, looking bored as he shuffled about with a crossbow in his hands. Apollo flew to within eight feet of the wall. Gregor took a deep breath, and calmed down as he ignored the distance between the wall and the ground should he make a mistake. He worked up the courage and jumped off Apollo.

As expected, he landed on the wall perfectly as his cloak billowed around in the wind. He instantly looked up and found himself face-to-face with the guard with a crossbow. So much for stealth.

"Hi there," he greeted the guard as his hand instantly went for the hilt of his sword.

* * *

 **That's Chapter 9 done! Once again, the Bane's conversation with Gregor is a dream sequence and here's just a reminder that the Bane doesn't actually exist as a character in this series. He's just like a part of Gregor's imagination. Once again, this chapter did not have much action and revolved more around Gregor's dilemma when it comes to choosing between Regalia and Luxa.**

 **As usual, favourites/follows are always welcome if you haven't done so yet. And I would love for the reviews to come in on this chapter, especially regarding your thoughts towards Gregor's conversations with Miravet and Apollo.**

 **Question: Who would you side with, Gregor or Ripred? Which of these two characters is more morally justified? There isn't a definitive answer, and all answers are technically correct. So go ahead and share your thoughts please!**


	10. Chapter 10: One Man Army

**Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews that have come in. Please keep them coming! Anyway, my gratitude goes to: FierceDeity24, pyro159(awesome job catching up with the reviews!), shadowofdarkness11, AresTheUnderlander, TheGreatAthlon5, A happy reader, Lololol, Clytuis, Darklord, SlyIntellect, Angie.M.V(nice to meet you!), Alpha Death(it's been a while), Cubostar, MarbleSky and last but not least, phantom1299.**

 **This chapter will feature a brutal and almost merciless Gregor. So be ready for some intense fighting and occasionally gruesome violence. I suspect I've written more brutal scenes before, but still I don't think this is for the faint-hearted. Nevertheless, please go ahead and share your opinion on it with me. I'll explain why Gregor is so brutal in my closing message, but you all should be able to figure that out anyway.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's point of view.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: One Man Army**

The guard, to his credit, swiftly recovered from the shock of seeing Gregor and his finger quickly tightened around the trigger of the crossbow. But Gregor had seen it coming from a mile away. He yanked out his sword and let the rager sensation flow throughout him, as his blood rushed through his veins and his vision splintered into a dozen little fragments, each detailing the guard's weaknesses. Gregor wasn't going to kill him, but he wasn't afraid to use any means possible to incapacitate him. If the Fount wanted to be aggressive with Regalia, he would enlighten them with the true meaning of aggressiveness.

The guard fired one arrow at him, but Gregor sliced it in mid-air without any problem. The two pieces landed at his feet with a light thud, invoking a rare smirk underneath the mask. He looked back up at the guard, who was now beginning to retreat slowly in fear. Gregor advanced forward slowly, taking longer strides each and every time he took a step. The guard fired another arrow at him, but even at point blank range it was no trouble for Gregor. He swung his blade and sliced the arrow head off, leaving the shaft to bounce harmlessly off his armour.

Gregor decided to stop toying around with the guard. He suddenly burst forward and swung his blade with blinding speed and ferocity, slashing through the entire crossbow and breaking it instantly. Splinters of wood and bone rained down on the ground as the guard stared down dumbly at what was remaining of his crossbow. He then recovered quickly again and drew out his sword. He rushed forward at Gregor, but Gregor parried his blade aside with little fuss and lashed out with a heavy kick at the guard's chest, sending the guard flying back. The guard landed with a sickening thump and began to groan in pain.

But Gregor had little sympathy for him. He strolled over to the guard and placed his blade at the guard's throat. "Make another noise," he threatened, "And I will make sure it is your last."

But the guard didn't seem to care. "BACKUP!" he yelled, "WE HAVE AN INTRUDER! HELP!"

Gregor angrily swung his fist and hit the guard in the face. He felt the small spikes on his gauntlet slice through the guard's cheek skin as his fist crunched into the right side of the guard's face, breaking the guard's cheekbone in the process. The guard tried to choke out another cry for help, but he succumbed to the pain and ended up hyperventilating as blood began to seep out of his cuts. Gregor then hit him between the eyes and knocked him out cold. He wasn't accustomed to using such brutality against another human for a long time, but he didn't have much of a choice here.

He looked up and to his dismay, he caught a glimpse of fires in the distance being lit up. The stealth plan was now well and truly out of the window.

They had heard the guard's cry for help and would be converging on him soon. He was going to have to figure out something else to substitute for his lack of stealth.

Brute force, maybe? Possible, but Gregor didn't really like to entertain the idea of taking on the whole army of the Fount.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he whirled around to find two more guards running at him as they brandished their weapons. He charged forward too, and in the last possible second he flipped over the both of them while slashing his blade in mid-leap. As expected, the tip of his blade found a chink in one of the guard's shoulder plates. He felt an unusual sense of satisfaction as the tip dug into the soldier's skin and left as soon as it had entered. Gregor landed on his two feet and spun around immediately to face the guards.

The guard on the right was about to charge forward at him again, but he stopped short in his tracks suddenly. The guard's left hand instantly went up to feel his right shoulder, and that was the distraction Gregor needed. He raced forward and slammed into the guard, sending the both of them sprawling, which was just what Gregor wanted. He raised the hilt of his blade and smashed it into the guard's helmet, knocking the guard out.

He instinctively raised the blade above his head and almost grinned when he heard the clanging of blades against each other as his sword blocked another blade from coming down on his head. He spun around and lashed out with a kick to the guard's knee, causing the knee to bend backwards with a cringe-inducing crack. The guard then teetered over and fell to the ground like a timber tree.

Gregor instantly stepped down on the guard's wrist, causing him to scream in pain and let go of the blade. Gregor kicked the blade and sent it spinning away, before kicking the guard in the face and knocking him unconscious.

Another soldier charged up the stairs and ran down the wall to fight him, hollering a battle cry as he did so. Gregor just sprang into the air and kicked him in the face, causing him to fly back several metres. He tried to get up, but Gregor sprinted forward and slammed a knee into his face to knock him out.

A whole flock of arrows came flying over, but Gregor's splintered vision had helped to ready him for that. He spun his blade with lightning speed, hacking down any arrow which was destined to hit him. Another set of arrows was sent in his direction, and this time Gregor was forced to retreat while slicing down any arrow which came close to him. He immediately sprinted for one of the stairs leading down the wall.

A soldier ran up the stairs to engage him in battle, but Gregor swung his blade wildly and batted the soldier's blade aside, before firing his left fist into the soldier's helmet and breaking it. The soldier sank to his knees right in front of Gregor, as blood trickled out of the helmet. Gregor estimated that he had broken about seventy percent of the soldier's teeth and had probably broken the soldier's nose as well, but he still landed a karate blow to the soldier's neck, causing the soldier to gasp desperately as he collapsed onto the floor.

As Gregor ran down the stairs, another young soldier came bounding up, screaming "FOR THE FOUNT!" as he charged headfirst at Gregor. Gregor casually stepped aside and stuck out a foot, tripping the soldier up and causing him to fall face first onto the stairs.

Another soldier ran up and swung his blade straight at Gregor, but it really was never going to trouble Gregor. He ducked underneath the swing, reached out with his left hand and grabbed the soldier's wrist. He then twisted as hard as he could, causing the soldier to drop the sword with a yelp of pain. Gregor pressed his blade against the soldier's throat and said softly, "Tell your fellow soldiers to stand down. Or I will slit your throat before you can say goodbye to anybody."

"I've never given in to anyone," the soldier choked out, "I won't give in to you."

Gregor stared into the guard's frightened eyes, and as he pressed the blade against the guard's throat even more he replied with a fierce whisper, "There's a first time for everything."

The guard began to whimper softly, but before he could comply with Gregor, a dozen guards came rushing up the stairs. Gregor grunted and headbutted the soldier in front of him, knocking him unconscious immediately. He then lifted the soldier up with ease and hurled him down the stairs. The soldier's body crashed into his fellow soldiers and the whole lot of them were sent tumbling down the stairs.

God, Gregor missed dominoes.

He heard some movement behind him and he automatically swung his elbow backwards, and he winced slightly as he felt it connect with someone's nose. He turned around to see the young soldier falling backwards with a cry of anguish. His face was completely ruined- his teeth were missing, blood gurgled out of his mouth, and his broken nose made him look like a deformity. It was painful for Gregor to witness, but he had a job to do.

He trotted down the stairs, almost slipping on some blood in the process, before reaching the courtyard of the Fount's palace. For a moment, he wondered why it seemed to peaceful and tranquil.

Then three dozen soldiers came rushing forward.

They mobbed him immediately as Gregor's emergency rager sense was triggered. He was no relying on pure instinct as his sword spontaneously moved through the air, almost as if it was a separate entity on its own. He made quite sure that his movements never became offensive, but apart from that he left his arms and instincts to do all the work. It was a combination of muscle memory and rager instincts- all Gregor needed to do in the end was to make sure it didn't become a Damien situation.

He felt his body twisting into all kinds of awkward positions in order to deflect the numerous attacks that came his way. His sword sliced down an arrow heading straight for his head, and he required an almost unbelievable reflex move to parry a blade destined to stab his throat. A spear, of all weapons, was thrown straight at him, but Gregor somehow found himself jumping into the air and catching it whilst simultaneously deflecting an attack at his right side.

He landed back down on both feet, using both the spear and the sword in order to defend himself. A whole flurry of attacks was mounted against his left side, but he was able to swat them aside with the spear, while using his sword to block an attack from someone behind him. He then spun around and slammed a foot against the soldier's chest, sending him flying back and crashing into his fellow soldiers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gregor noticed a whole battalion of soldiers getting orders from a captain as they readied themselves for battle. Gregor was about to have much, much more company and this time he was going to be overwhelmed for sure. More soldiers kept pouring into the courtyard and joining the fight against him like water flowing out of a leaking barrel.

Wave after wave of soldiers just kept joining the battle and replacing those who were exhausted or injured. At this rate, Gregor would be dead within the next ten minutes or so. It appeared as if every single soldier of the Fount had been alerted and mobilised to fight him. There was no way Gregor would survive if he continued his defensive stance.

Gritting his teeth together in frustration, Gregor sliced off the head of the spear, leaving him with just a wooden stick. Gregor then began fighting back, blocking his sword and responding with a blow from his stick. He felt like a broken recorder- block with the sword, hit with the stick. There was little to no variation in his movements, as everything appeared to him as a mechanical and laboured process. He just had to be faster than them, and his rager abilities solved that problem.

One soldier was able to block the attack from the stick, but Gregor responded by slamming the hilt of his blade against the soldier's neck. He then swung the stick in a three hundred and sixty-degree swing, knocking down all the soldiers surrounding him. More closed in, but like their predecessors they were all beaten down by Gregor. Another soldier was able to dodge the stick, but Gregor followed up with a vicious jab into the soldier's side, causing the soldier to yell in pain.

The wooden stick might be missing its sharp, metal head, but the splinters in its place was a more than adequate replacement. Gregor then swung the stick wildly, hitting the soldier across the face and sending him into oblivion.

Suddenly, a soldier slammed into him from behind, sending the both of them skidding across the courtyard. The wooden stick slipped out of his grasp, and the soldiers instantly grabbed it and tore it to pieces gleefully as if they were in the midst of tearing him to pieces. Grunting in irritation, Gregor rushed forward aimlessly and crashed into them, firing punches and kicks instinctively at anyone who was within range. One sprawling soldier tried to slice his feet off, but Gregor leapt into the air to avoid it, and came crashing back down on the man's chest and breaking his ribs.

A female soldier came running forward, but Gregor wasn't going to pull his punches just because she was of the opposite sex. He blocked her attack with his sword, before flicking the tip of his blade at her wrist, pricking it and causing her to drop it with a sharp hiss. He then struck her across the face, knocking her out immediately.

Out of the blue, Gregor's gut suddenly tightened, as if he felt something bad was going to happen. He relied fully on his rager instincts, spinning around to hack down two dozen arrows fired at him…

… but one arrow somehow evaded his blade and embedded itself in a small chink in his leg armour. The tip of the arrow lodged itself in his knee, triggering ripples of pain throughout his body. Gregor felt his breathing intensify and then become more ragged s he felt warm blood trickling down his calf.

So this was how it felt like to bleed. Gregor had almost forgotten the sensation. It seemed like such a distant memory two years ago, when he actually felt physically vulnerable and almost… ordinary. Ripred's words suddenly began echoing in his head, taunting him, " _I started to crack at four hundred to one._ " So this was Gregor's four hundred to one experience, except it felt more like a thousand to one.

But his pain was quickly replaced by anger. Unleashing a bloodcurdling battle cry, he yanked the arrow out of his knee and drove it into the shoulder of yet another soldier, before knocking him out with a left uppercut. Gregor wouldn't kill them, but he would make them suffer.

He drew out his dagger, and with deadly aim hurled it at one of the archers. It thudded against the archer's right arm, resulting in the archer inadvertently releasing an arrow from the sheer pain. The arrow hit one of their own soldiers in the groin, and Gregor found himself chuckling grimly at the sight. The archer who had been hit by his dagger then tumbled over his elevated position and fell down onto the courtyard. He lay there groaning as his hand instantly went to touch his back. Gregor wasn't surprised if the archer had damaged his spine. They were all going to suffer.

Gregor raced forward to meet an oncoming group of soldiers, parrying all the thrusts and swings which were directed at him. He now used his blade to attack, stabbing at their legs and hands but making very sure not to attack them anywhere else. All he was going to do was incapacitate them by going for their limbs. He made short quick stabs at their vital limb muscles- the calves, the ankles, the wrists, the elbows… It was calculated attack after calculated attack, all directed at immobilising each and every soldier that had the guts to attack him.

He blocked a downward swing from a large soldier, before ducking underneath another swing and stabbing his blade into the big soldier's right hamstring. With a bellow of pain the big soldier staggered forward and collapsed down.

Gregor grabbed the soldier's sword and threw it at one of the captains directing the attacks against him. This time, the sword impaled the captain's right shoulder, producing a howl of agony from him.

The soldiers now looked really riled up and nervous. To see one of their leaders suffering in so much pain was clearly demoralising, and many of the soldiers now looked uninspired and frightened.

That was it! Gregor needed to go for the captains and hurt them. That was the only way to stop this mob of soldiers from surrounding him and overwhelming him. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his left knee, Gregor jogged forward and spun his blade to deflect another series of attacks against him. He then used sheer brute force to barrel his way through the soldiers, shrugging them aside quite literally and even knocking one of them down in the process.

His bullish movement forward was quickly halted by an organised group of soldiers, who locked shields and stood their ground. But that wasn't too hard. Gregor grabbed hold of a soldier lying on the ground, before hoisting the soldier up onto his knees. Gregor then stepped on the man's shoulder and catapulted himself up and over the wall of shields.

For a split second, he could see his reflection through one of the swords a soldier was using.

And he looked terrifying.

His cape billowing through the air, his black armour fitting his muscular frame perfectly, the mask which did not reveal his face but made him appear sinister and mysterious… He looked like a devil from hell.

More than one hundred and seventy pounds of sheer muscle and sinew, with the added weight of his armour, came crashing down onto the soldiers. They instantly scattered about, swinging their blades wildly as confusion came crashing down as well. Disoriented soldiers began attacking each other while others just lay on the ground, dazed from Gregor's attack. Arrows rained down all over the place, severely injuring some of their own soldiers.

But Gregor remained largely unfazed and unscathed. He immediately waded through the swathes of groaning soldiers lying prone on the ground, kicking at some of the soldiers who attempted to mount a pathetic attack whilst still sprawling over the floor. The soldiers still standing immediately closed the distance by charging at him, but their amateur attacks were easily dealt with by him. Quick jabs to the arms and legs left them on the ground along with the other soldiers.

And then it was almost all back to square one. Yet another series of arrows were fired at him, and while Gregor was prepared this time, he wasn't prepared for what came next. Just as he sliced down the last arrow, a couple of soldiers barreled into him, knocking Sandwich's blade out of his grasp and sending it spinning across the courtyard. Gregor desperately tried to reach out and grab it as it spun away, but it was just way too far from his reach. He had literally no weapons left to fight the soldiers.

Groaning in pain, he turned his attention back to the soldiers who had crashed into him. One of them had clearly broken his arm and was lying on the ground, cradling it as he whimpered softly.

But the other soldier was still fine. He raised his blade up and brought it down on Gregor, but Gregor was just about able to bring up his gauntlets and block the attack.

Parts of the blade that came into contact with his gauntlets actually got chipped off and fell onto the ground with resounding clinks. Both the soldier and Gregor looked at the scene with surprise. Gregor rarely used his gauntlets to defend himself in battle, so he had no idea they could actually… block an attack? Were gauntlets ever that strong?

Gregor decided to leave the questions for later, and capitalised on the soldier's surprise by punching upwards, breaking the soldier's nose and sending the soldier stumbling backwards. Gregor's right swing then knocked him out cold as a renewed force of soldiers began to gather in the distance.

Gregor sighed at the sight of more soldiers preparing to join the battle. If Apollo was here… no, he wouldn't drag Apollo into this. As a member of Regalia, he could end up being in deep trouble if he was caught attacking the Fount. And if he died in a battle like this… which was entirely possible… then Gregor would never forgive himself. Ares' death already weighed so heavily on his heart… If Apollo also died because of Gregor, the sheer guilt would sink him. There was not a chance Gregor would whistle three times and pull a friend into this chaos.

And then Gregor remembered the reason he was here. He wasn't here to fight the entire Fount army and take them down! He was here to get answers from Stellovet and Susannah, which meant that if he could get to them first, then he wouldn't have to deal with an entire army. Gregor's stomach actually churned violently with anxiety when he saw more battalions being readied in the distance. Survival seemed like a pretty bleak outcome now, unless he could find Stellovet and Susannah. He was in the palace courtyard, which meant that they would be…

Gregor turned in the direction of the massive doors leading into the main building and started dashing towards them. About two dozen soldiers were stationed in front of the doors, and they instantly advanced forward to intercept him.

Gregor took a deep breath and bellowed out another battle cry, frightening some soldiers into taking a step or two back. Gregor then raised up his gauntlets and began to block all the attacks which came his way, before responding with a flurry of punches and kicks which even he couldn't make sense of.

One soldier was able to shrug them off and mount another attack, but Gregor easily blocked the slash with his left gauntlet and grabbed the soldier's neck. Spittle flew out of the soldier's mouth as Gregor's hand tightened around his throat. And then, with another roar of anger and adrenaline, Gregor lifted the soldier up at the throat and slammed him down onto the ground.

That was possibly his first successful chokeslam.

The other soldiers all subconsciously took a step back, leaving Gregor to advance forward menacingly. A brave soldier came rushing forward, but Gregor landed a kick to the soldier's knee, causing the soldier to buckle at the knee and land on the ground. Gregor savagely kicked him in the head and knocked him unconscious for good measure. Another soldier tried his luck and rushed forward, but Gregor blocked his downward swing of the blade with both gauntlets, before disengaging and grabbing the soldier's wrists. He then twisted as hard as he could, grimacing slightly as he heard a sickening crack from both wrists. He then headbutted the soldier in the face and left him lying stunned on the ground.

This time, three soldier rushed at him. Gregor used his gauntlets and blocked yet another whole host of attacks. He almost jerked back in surprise when he heard one of his gauntlets crack. He couldn't keep this fight up for long. He stunned one of them by firing a punch at his throat, before forcefully grabbing the hilt of one of the blades and slamming it into another soldier. He then slammed the hilt of the blade into the face of the soldier who was holding on to it.

The soldier he had punched was back on his feet, but Gregor was already prepared. He quickly body slammed the soldier and sent the soldier sprawling. The soldier was just about able to struggle back onto his feet, but Gregor wrapped his right arm around the soldier's throat and began to suffocate him.

One of the soldiers who had been knocked down earlier came running towards him, but Gregor knocked him back down with a solid kick.

Another soldier came rushing in behind Gregor, but he fired a ruthless left elbow into the soldier's face, before finishing the soldier off with another left elbow strike to the throat.

Gregor then let go of the man he was suffocating, and he instantly fell limp to the ground. Gregor was worried for a moment that he had killed the man, but he saw a shallow rise of the soldier's chest and he heaved a sigh of relief.

Most of the other soldiers had retreated and were beginning to reassemble at one spot of the courtyard, leaving the doors to the palace unguarded. That was either a moronic mistake or a fatal misjudgement. Did they really think Gregor had flown all the way over to the Fount just to fight off insipid attack after insipid attack in a courtyard? Was Gregor's presence in the Fount not a clear indication that he was looking for the royalty?

Gregor took advantage of the small break by walking over to his sword and picking it up, which had been criminally left unattended to at one side. He then casually strolled over to the injured archer lying on the floor, and pulled his dagger out of the archer's arm. The archer wheezed in pain as the dagger left his arm, and he slowly became overwhelmed by the pain and lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Warrior!" a voice yelled at Gregor.

Gregor slowly turned around and looked at a general of the Fount, who was standing on the wall which Gregor had landed on earlier. Easily half a thousand soldiers were facing him with their weapons all drawn out, while about a hundred archers stood in different positions, but with their aim trained on him the whole time. Simply put, Gregor was surrounded.

"Warrior, we are giving you this opportunity to surrender to us. We wish not to use violence against you, but your invasion of this city is a step too far and we will not tolerate it. We will kill you unless you surrender to us. Think this through carefully, Warrior," the general warned him.

Gregor smiled in amusement, but his expression could not be seen under the mask… Which meant that they were all staring at his grim, menacing mask in fear. His eyes darted around him as he observed how easy it would be for him to suddenly turn tail and race towards the doors leading into the palace.

It was about fifty metres, which meant that he needed about eight seconds to pirouette and race towards the doors in his armour. In that time, he would be entertaining the possibility of being shot at by the archers. But if he was able to slice the arrows in mid-air, then he could still make it to the doors without much fuss, but he would be much slower. He was going to need about fifteen to twenty seconds.

His eyes then shifted over to face the ground soldiers again. They were about seventy to eighty metres away from him. Taking into account reaction time, they would need about fifteen to twenty seconds as well to reach the door. Damn, he was either going to have to be lucky, or he was going to have to pray for some kind of mistake.

Then an idea sprouted in his mind. He glanced over at the injured archer on the ground. This was his opportunity to buy some time. He grabbed the archer by the collar and hauled him up before putting his blade at the archer's throat. "Tell the archers to lower their arrows and bows!" he demanded in the low, almost guttural voice that his mask helped to produce.

"We know you wouldn't kill him!" the general responded confidently, "Put the weapon down, Warrior. Can you not see we do not want this to end in bloodshed?"

"You don't know me," Gregor replied coldly, "None of you do. Tell your archers to lower their bows, and I will let him go. Then we can talk about what happens next."

He took a quick glance upwards at the archers, and it was clear that they were frightened for their fellow archer's life. Anxiety was brimming over in their eyes, and their hands were beginning to quiver slightly as Gregor noticed their foreheads glistening with sweat. He was like a brother to them, and that was exactly what Gregor needed.

A few bats began to hover in the air, with the riders brandishing their weapons and staring long and hard at Gregor. This was going to be the decisive moment. "Put down your bows!" the general ordered. The archers, albeit still tensed up, obeyed orders and lowered their bows.

Gregor brought the tip of his blade away from the archer's throat and pointed it at the bats. "Them too," Gregor requested, "Tell them to stand down."

"We agreed it was just the lowering of the bows," the general insisted adamantly, "We will not cede to any more demands."

"His life is in your hands, general," Gregor reminded him, "You have three seconds to make a call. And his life depends on it." Gregor began a mental countdown. He wasn't going to kill the soldier, but he was going to do something to the soldier if need be to show them he meant business. He hated being cruel, but that was the only person he could be in this cruel world.

One. The general continued to stare at Gregor as all eyes slowly swivelled around to watch the general.

Two. Gregor placed the sword back at the archer's throat.

Thre-

"FINE!" the general answered, "Fliers, stand down."

The bats reluctantly flew down and landed next to him. That was Gregor's cue.

He immediately spun around and sprinted for the doors to the palace.

One.

Two.

Three. He could hear the general beginning to bark out orders behind him.

Four. He was closing in on the door.

Five. He sheathed his sword and dagger to get both hands ready to push the doors open.

Six. Almost there.

Seven. Gregor reached the door a full second before he expected himself to. He could hear the soldiers behind him starting to break into a sprint, and he wasn't surprised if the fliers had just begun to take flight and if the archers had picked up their bows and were ready to fire at him. But he had already won. He placed his palms against the door, and pushed.

But the door didn't budge.

He pushed again, but the door still didn't budge. Was it locked? The general's shouting behind him began to intensify.

He exerted almost every ounce of strength he still had into pushing the door open.

But it wouldn't budge.

* * *

 **Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. It's my first full chapter of solid action, and I'm sorry that the language used here might not be up to standard. Generally, when I'm writing intense fighting or action sequences, the language I use is very simplistic and not overly complicated. It's a bit more uncouth to reflect the uncouth and ugly nature of fighting and bloodshed.**

 **Also, I hope you didn't mind Gregor's brutality. I spent a lot of time developing his character in the last story to show how he tries to avoid killing at all costs, but I'm trying to show that he hasn't truly let that murderous instinct go and that he's always trying to push the limits to what he can actually do without killing innocents. He's almost been driven mad by the anger of losing Luxa, so he resorts to violent means without killing. So yea, we'll get to see him develop more as a character as well as a fighter as this story goes on.**

 **Favourites/Follows are GREATLY appreciated, and please do not forget to review this chapter!**

 **Question: Do you think Gregor will surrender? Or do you think he'll try and fight his way out of being surrounded? Let me know your thoughts in the reviews section!**


	11. Chapter 11: A Necessary Betrayal

**Hi everyone! Some of you may be wondering why this chapter has been updated for a second time. I did that to let you all know that I have set up a forum for a poll which will stretch over the next 2 weeks. I implore all of you to visit the forum(go to Forums, then Books, then Underland Chronicles, then find Polling!) and cast your vote for 2 questions. I accidentally made both topics the same name, but visit both of them to cast a vote for each question. The first question is: Do you want to see Ripred fight Gregor? The second one is: Are you on Ripred's or Gregor's side? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE vote because your opinions mean a lot to me. It's a blind poll so that I can get the most honest answers from you guys. if you are a guest reader, please create a Fanfiction account to vote. If you are unwilling to do so, then just drop a review by over the next two weeks answering both questions SPECIFICALLY. Try to follow the forum because updates will come by some time or another. Alternatively, to answer the first question just visit my profile page.**

 **Once again, I kinda got the feeling that exams have cropped up or something… but whatever, if you guys have the free time, I'd appreciate reviews coming in! Hopefully all of us will be less busy soon. But anyway, thank you to the following people for reviewing over the past one week: rlcapritta21(nice to meet you!), A happy reader, Clytuis, FierceDeity24, DeathDrayanD(I've been waiting to hear from you for quite some time. How's your story going?), TheGreatAthlon5, Lololol(don't worry, Calvin and hero will be together. But not quite yet), phantom1299(thank you for the whole stream of reviews coming in. It really lit my week up), AlphaDeath(good to have you catching up, old friend), athusoss(nice to meet you… how's the second story so far?) and last but not least, pyro159. I love you guys… please keep the reviews coming!**

 **I've been very busy, which is why I'm uploading it now instead of on Friday night… what a goddamn pity. Once again, thank you to all those who dropped a review. You have my gratitude for sparing a couple of minutes to pen your thoughts on my story.**

 **This chapter unravels a lot between Gregor and… I'll leave the surprises for later. Needless to say, I hope you enjoy this chapter, because it is absolutely pivotal towards the development of this story's plot.**

 **This chapter is from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: A Necessary Betrayal**

Gregor had no time to curse his luck. Unless he somehow hauled himself out of his current predicament, it was his blood which would stain the palace doors and turn its state of magnificence into a picture of an ordinary abattoir.

He spun around and acted purely based on instinct. That was the cardinal sin for a rager- never surrender to one's instincts completely, or risk taking the lives of the people around you. But Gregor had run dry of any options he had left. Taking in a deep breath, he sprang into the air and wrapped his arms around the neck of a bat.

That move caught the bat by surprise, and the bat instantly jerked up abruptly, nearly sending its rider and Gregor flying off in the process. But while the rider grabbed hold of tufts of the bat's fur and held on for dear life, Gregor capitalised on the momentum to swing himself upwards and over the bat's neck to land on its back.

As the bat continued to hover in the air, Gregor was vaguely aware of the general hollering orders to his soldiers, who were scrambling about and becoming just as panicked as the bat was. The archers were seconds away from letting loose a wave of arrows, but were just able to restrain themselves in time.

This was Gregor's second chance to strike while the iron was hot. With confusion taking control of matters on the ground, Gregor sent the rider of the bat flying off with a sharp kick to the soldier's forehead. He slid off the bat and landed on the ground with a shriek of fear.

Gregor thanked his lucky stars that the fall wasn't too far down, or he would have another death plastered on his conscience. As it stood, Gregor wondered if he had killed anybody throughout the fighting earlier. He had flirted with killing some Fount guards on a number of occasions, but while he always reigned his violence back in, he couldn't help but fret over whether he had inadvertently taken someone's life in the process.

But once again this wasn't the time to worry about casualties. His eyes flitted about to find any opening into the palace, and his gaze quickly settled on a stained glass panel of the palace.

That was precisely what Gregor was looking for.

The bat he was standing on had finally regained its composure and began to slow down the beating of its wings in order to figure out what to do. "Shake him off!" Gregor heard the general yell, "Shake the bloody son of a bitch off!"

It was now or never for Gregor. Just before the bat performed a flip in the air to throw Gregor off, he took a couple of light steps forward to gain some momentum before hurling himself off the bat and towards the stained glass panel.

Time deliberately seemed to slow down as Gregor found himself flying through the air. It seemed to mock him, goad him, and draw amusement from his fear of heights. Gregor felt his stomach slosh about as streams of sweat came rushing down his face.

He couldn't bear to look down. It was almost as if looking down would pull him in and send him hurtling down that ravine which supposedly claimed Gorger's life all those years ago. His heart pounded painfully against his chest as he inched closer through the air towards the stained panel.

To his relief, the torture session ended as he connected with the glass panel, crashing through it and landing in a stone corridor. Shards of glass rained down on the floor and lay about in smithereens. Gregor almost regretted crashing through it when he saw the vibrant colours it possessed and the intricate design which was once a united, coherent masterpiece.

But nothing in the Underland stayed beautiful forever. In the end, all beauty was superficial and it always came crashing down to splinter into nothing but smithereens of broken dreams.

Gregor stumbled to his feet and had to lean against the wall for support. He righted himself and staggered forward slightly. His eyes instantaneously drifted across his surroundings, picking up on the small details and processing them like a machine.

The scarred stone walls, which displayed scratch marks with a striking resemblance to old scars that Regalia itself harboured. Scratch marks that bitterly hinted at an invasion two years ago- an invasion which changed the complexity of the relationship between Regalia and the Fount. An invasion which inadvertently dug up years of spite and hatred which had been hidden by brutality first, then a frail peace which ended up being a short respite before the Underland plunged back into the filth of war.

He was down a corridor on the second floor of the building, which didn't tell him much initially. But as he assessed the corridor, he realised that the carpet he was stepping on was a vibrant red.

Royalty probably resided on this floor.

An arrow came flying through the window, but it missed its mark by quite a bit. Another arrow flew in, but was once again off-target. Gregor staggered forward as he felt exhaustion starting to grip his limbs. But he bit down on the urge to yell out of sheer tiredness, and he forced himself to walk forward. He needed to get down this corridor quickly, or more arrows would fly in and eventually hit him.

He began to jog down the corridor, on the lookout for any room which might appear to belong to the royal family of the Fount. As he rounded the bend, he came face-to-face with an imperial guard.

Gregor spared him no mercy. He struck the guard with a vicious right hook, and then knocked him out with a backhand swing which nearly matched the viciousness of his earlier strike. Another guard came running down the corridor, but Gregor improvised quickly, springing into the air and sending him into unconsciousness with a flying kick to his head. Gregor gingerly stepped over their bodies and continued scouring the palace for the doors to the royal bedroom.

The corridors stretched on for what felt like miles and miles of nothing but stone walls and ornate designs hung up along the way to spur a weak bout of admiration within anyone who walked by.

He could hear voices echoing down the corridors and hallways. Judging by their proximity, Gregor was sure he'd be found in the next two or three minutes unless he could get to Susannah first.

As he made his way down yet another corridor, he spotted a couple of burly imperial guards standing right outside an imposing door. They caught sight of him as quickly as he found them, and the both of them instantly rushed forward to engage him, hollering a battle cry as they did so.

Gregor calmly pulled his sword out of its sheath and parried their attacks aside, before jabbing quickly through chinks in their shoulder and knee armour. Before he knew it, the tip of his blade was coloured bright red and both men unleashed screams of pain as they collapsed onto the floor. Gregor calmly sheathed his blade and strode over to the doors into the royal palace. He placed his palms against the doors and pushed. No response. It seemed like doors in the Fount had ousted Bane as his new arch enemies.

One guard rushed forward and tried to attack him from behind, but Gregor coolly dodged the attack and grabbed the guard's wrists. He then twisted his body around and flipped the guard over his shoulder. The guard slammed down onto the ground with a resounding thud. Gregor then picked him and with a grunt of exhaustion, hoisted the man above his head, before dropping him over his knee. The guard now landed on his knee with a sickening crack, and he fell down onto the ground with a stifled groan. That would strike would keep him incapacitated.

The other guard picked himself up and rushed at Gregor without his blade. Gregor once again kept his cool, blocking the man's strikes before grabbing his throat. With a guttural snarl, he rammed the man against the wall, before hurling him across the corridor. He slammed against the wooden doors and slumped down slightly.

With a roar of pent-up frustration and fury, Gregor lashed out with a violent kick at the man's chest, sending him crashing against the doors and flinging the doors wide open. As the man slid across the floor of the room, Gregor walked in and surveyed his new surroundings.

York was standing in front of Stellovet and Susannah, who were both cowering in a corner. A young girl, probably Chimney, watched the scene with wide, frightened eyes. Both Stellovet and Susannah let out muffled whimpers as Gregor advanced forward. York instantly barreled forward, yelling, "LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!"

Gregor sidestepped him nimbly and stuck out a foot, tripping him over. The big, ungainly man rolled around for a few seconds, before tumbling into an upright position. He struggled to his feet and charged one more time at Gregor. He swung his sword but Gregor's blade was out in a flash to block the attack. York was a mountain of a man, but his size mattered little when fighting someone as battle-hardened and as quick as Gregor.

York thrust his blade forward a second time, but Gregor was just about able to parry the thrust and respond with a deft flick of his own, pricking York's wrist and causing the big man to drop his blade with a sharp yelp. Gregor sheathed his blade and cracked his knuckles. He wasn't going to give York the dignity of saying that he had lost to Gregor whilst being unarmed.

York thundered forward and swung a hammer of a fist at Gregor's face. Gregor, however, was far too experienced to try and block a swing like that. He ducked under the swing, allowing its momentum to leave York off-balance. He then followed up by firing a vicious kick at York's kneecap, which resulted in York staggering backwards and falling heavily on his back. But with an animalistic growl, York heaved himself back up and panted heavily, his face flushing a bright red from the strain of fighting Gregor in his old age. He took slow, deliberate steps towards Gregor, clearly adopting a more tactical approach.

Gregor suddenly closed the gap and then fired an elbow at York's throat, causing York to gag from the blow. He then grabbed York's head and brought it down while bringing his knee up, ramming his knee into York's forehead. The big man staggered backwards and Gregor followed up by slamming into him and pinning him against the wall. He unsheathed his blade and pressed it against York's throat.

"STOP!" Susannah screamed as she broke out into desperate sobbing, "Stop, please!"

Gregor stared into York's eyes with the same rage which had consumed him when he was speaking to Ripred earlier. He felt his heart thud against his chest as his head throbbed violently. His skin seemed to burn as if they were set alight by fire as he glared at York with intense hatred. The Fount may not have set him down this road of misery, but they had taken Luxa away from him. They had taken the one reason of living away from him. They had stolen the one emotion that kept him grounded in rationality and kindness.

Why did York, Susannah or any of them deserve to live? Why was he holding back all this while?

Gregor then glanced over at Susannah, who was biting down on her fingernails as tears flowed out of her eyes.

But that didn't strike him the hardest. As he gazed at her falling tears, he saw the same fear and panic in his eyes- the same fear and panic that gripped him when Luxa stormed out of the Council hall. The same fear and panic when he saw Mareth at Conrad's mercy. The same fear and panic that tormented him when Damien's lifeless body was at his feet.

The Fount may have inflicted pain on him, but that didn't give him the right to inflict it back on them.

He was better than that.

He was the Warrior.

He was a symbol of hope for the whole Underland.

And above all, he was a human being like them. And he would be damned if he continued to put them through this excruciating agony.

Gregor let go of York, who immediately staggered to one side and collapsed on his back. Susannah promptly sprang to her feet and rushed over to York's side.

"He's alive!" Gregor barked at Susannah, who just as quickly backed away from York as she had arrived at his side.

The cold hatred in Gregor's heart almost melted away when he saw the vulnerability that Susannah displayed. Standing in front of him was the woman who had inspired him to pick his blade up again and fight for the Underland. In essence, she was the true saviour of Regalia, not Gregor.

" _Don't hate yourself for who you are, Gregor."_

" _You're the one great hero still alive, Gregor."_

" _Would you rather die on your bed with a thousand regrets, or would you charge out into battle to fight for Regalia?"_

Gregor almost stumbled back from the sheer volume of Susannah's voice that filled his head. He… He needed to focus. His conscience was playing far too many little games with him and he was becoming distracted because of it.

He turned to look at Stellovet, and any strong sense of admiration or respect he had for Susannah quickly simmered down. The icy loathing he felt towards her enveloped his heart completely once more.

He lifted his blade up and pointed the tip at Susannah. "Why did you ally with the rebel gnawers?"

When Susannah continued chewing on her fingernails and refused to respond to Gregor, he yelled, "ANSWER ME!"

"I… I… I… do not… Please don't hurt York, please… I beg you… d-don't hurt him…" she stammered incoherently.

"He will get hurt if you don't answer me now, Susannah," Gregor warned her, as he deliberately made the tip of his blade waver slightly as he pointed it at her.

"It wasn't us!" Susannah protested, "They were planning to invade us and ga-… gave us the option of… of… allying with them. We had to fight Regalia, or we would die at their hands. They're too strong, Gregor! They were far too strong!"

"Regalia would have come to your aid," Gregor told her, "At your request we would have flown an army here to protect you."

"No," York croaked out as he rubbed his head and slowly got to his feet, "No, you wouldn't have. Did you come to our aid when your kind invaded us, Gregor? Where was Regalia when the Fount struggled with its economy and with its social stability? Have you seen the actual city, Gregor? Have you seen how much we have suffered because of Regalia?"

"Regalia has always fought back against rebel forces," Gregor insisted, "We do not tolerate such movements and our army could have crushed them."

"Not them," Susannah replied, with an air of fear starting to settle back down in her voice, "You have not seen the atrocities they have committed yet. Nibblers have been brutally executed in front of our city walls to send us a message that their brutality extends to us too. What would you have us do?"

"Don't give in to terror," Gregor said firmly and bluntly, "By giving in to them, it shows that you are weak and that even the humans can succumb to their ideology. You've just made a huge mistake by allying with them against us."

"It would have been a bigger mistake to ally ourselves against Regalia," York spat back, "Do you know the real reason why the gnawers are rebelling? It is because the Regalians have treated them badly. Luxa has become so stuck-up and proud that she has gladly ignored the plight of the gnawers and left them to suffer. Their cult following of the Bane is because he was the gnawer who was closest to breaking Regalia. The gnawers and the humans are supposed to be living in peace, but the gnawers in Regalia have been treated like a steaming pile of shit. If we ally ourselves with you, we are supporting her reign of tyranny. Her power needs to be kept in check, and the rebel gnawers are doing the dirty work for the rest of the Underland!"

"Luxa is NOT like Conrad!" Gregor responded angrily, "She knows how to control her power."

"Don't lie to me, Gregor," York replied as he shook with fury, "She's just as much consumed by her own self-entitlement as Conrad was! She's beaten and hammered the gnawers to the point where they can take no more. At least Conrad had the intellect to promise them land near the plains of Tartarus. Luxa has no contingency plan to make their lives better. If anything, your dear Luxa is the one who has made their lives WORSE!"

"We saved the whole freaking Underland," Gregor snarled, "And our reward is your ingratitude? This is what you have to show us for saving your lives?"

"That is precisely what I mean!" York exclaimed, "Regalia won the battle with OUR help, yet here you are parading yourself around like Regalia saved the lives of the Underland. Without us agreeing to fight with you, there would be no Underland left, Gregor. YOU owe US. But of course, you all have somehow found a way of deluding yourselves into believing that you all are the saviours of the Underland. Is that what you teach the children in schools to believe? That Regalia won this battle on their own?"

History is written by the victors. Walter Benjamin.

A line that Gregor had never truly forgotten all these years, because it was right. Was the United States of America truly the hero of World War II? Were they always the heroes for every single war they participated in? Or were they the heroes just because they won?

He would leave the philosophical pondering for later. Right now, he needed answers, and he needed them fast.

Suddenly, three dozen soldiers came charging into the room yelling a battle cry. Gregor instantly shifted his body stance, ready to take them all on…

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" York bellowed, "I am having a conversation with the Overlander. I am NOT TO BE DISTURBED."

The soldiers came to an abrupt halt in mid-charge, and stared at York with a look of incredulous perplexion. "Sir, he is dangerous," the general warned as he strode into the room.

"I trust him with my life, general," York replied, "I need to have this conversation with him now. I am not to be disturbed."

"The Warrior could have knocked on the door," the general remarked in a disgruntled manner, before trudging out of the room with the rest of his bewildered soldiers.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Gregor turned back to face York. "You were saying?" he pressed on.

"I was saying," York said through gritted teeth, "That the Fount has only done what is right. The rebel gnawers may be a great evil, but it is a lesser evil than Regalia. In the end, our purposes are the same- to bring justice to the Underland, which has been devoid of true justice in decades."

"We aren't the evil ones here," Gregor growled, "We've been the ones who have held the fox- I mean schemers, at bay. We're trying to protect the rest of the Underland here."

Gregor knew he had hit a nerve as a bright flash of anger appeared in York's eyes. "So are we!" York snapped back, "We're protecting the rest of the Underland from you!"

"The rebel gnawers work based on ideology," Gregor told York, "Once they bring down Regalia, they will not stop until the whole of the Underland has fallen to them. Their alliance with you is destined to fail and you will be betrayed. Trust me, you WILL be betrayed."

"We are ready for that day," York responded haughtily, "We know they will try and turn this into a Bane-worshipping empire. But we will not let that happen."

"But you know you will be overpowered," Gregor persisted, "Don't bother denying it. Even your wife mentioned just now that they were far too strong. You can't stop them, even if you tried."

"Then at least we failed knowing that the greatest threat to the Underland has fallen," York retorted bitterly.

"We are not your enemies, York. We never have been," Gregor said softly, feeling his heart crack slightly when he saw the wild fury and pain that was glistening in York's eyes. He knew York was a good man, and to see him plummeting to such an emotional state was agonising even for Gregor. Even the brittle beauty in a good man could be smashed to smithereens too once reality caught up with him.

"Warrior, you may not intend to fight us today. But some time in the future, you will want to go to battle with us," York replied wearily, "We are just fast-forwarding to that day. The Underland only has the space for one great superpower, and it's worth a try for us to bring down the one corrupt superpower still existing now."

His words sounded eerily similar to Ripred's earlier comments- _"The Underland only has space for one rager and his ego, whether you like it or not."_

"War has never been the way," Gregor said weakly, glad that his sadness and disappointment was masked by the artificial modulator, "If we can look to peace…"

"How long have you been down here Gregor?" York replied scornfully, "There has been no peace since Sandwich dragged dozens of men down into the Underland to begin a civilisation. We never had, do not have, and never will have peace. The best option for us has always been war, and war is what we will bring to Regalia."

"I came here for answers," Gregor said slowly, "I just didn't expect to be disappointed along the way."

"I am truly sorry, Gregor," Susannah spoke up, "It was the last thing on our minds to put you through even more war and pain. But I think that enough is enough, and one day we are all going to have to wake up and confront the truth. The truth that either we die, or you die."

Gregor couldn't hold back from responding, "I never thought I would hear those words coming from someone like you."

Susannah was about to reply to that, but her voice cracked up and faltered, dejection and self-loathing written all over her face. Gregor now ignored York and focused his full attention on her.

"One last thing before I leave," he said coldly, "Why was Stellovet's marriage to me approved? I didn't agree to anything. And of all people, why did YOU approve of it?"

Susannah immediately looked uncomfortable and frightened. "That's none of your business," York snarled. But he instantly fell silent when Gregor glanced over at him and clenched his fists.

"I want to know the truth," Gregor insisted, "I am sick and tired of not knowing. So tell me now- why was Stellovet's marriage to me approved?"

"I can't… I can't… Please don't put me in this position," Susannah stuttered as Stellovet whimpered one more time in the corner of the room.

"I don't care what position I'm putting you in," Gregor growled menacingly, " This is it. No more hiding from you. No more lying."

"But… but…" Susannah continued to stammer away, "Y-You don't… Y-Y-You don't understand. He'll kill me… I know he will because that's what he does… he'll kill me for telling you…"

Gregor was instantly intrigued by her words. Was she suggesting that… it couldn't be, could it?... Was she suggesting that someone had… had forced her to…

It all made perfect sense now. If someone had forced her to say that, then that would explain why the announcement flew out of the blue and destroyed Gregor's life forever. She had been pressured into approving of a possible marriage… but why? He had only solved one piece of the puzzle- and the jigsaw pieces were scattered all over the place.

"Answer my question properly," he demanded, "My patience is wearing VERY thin."

Susannah opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish out of water, gasping desperately for air as the fishermen drew near. Gregor knew he was closing in on the answers. From now on, it was all about asking the right questions.

Then she finally said…

"Ripred."

 _Ripred._

 _Ripred._

 _The old rat._

Gregor's mind whirled around as possibilities floated about and crashed into each other in this grim whirlwind of realisation. No, it couldn't be… What did she even mean? Was she implying that he…

"What about Ripred?" Gregor pressed on, "TELL ME!"

"He came to meet us a month ago," Susannah blurted out, "He… H-He… He came to tell us how to bring Regalia down. He's been on our side for the longest time, Gregor. All he has wanted to do is to end Regalia's autocracy so that we can live in peace. He believes that Regalia has had too much power and wants to help us bring it down in the process."

"You're not answering my question," Gregor replied, his voice shaking with absolute fury, "WHY DID YOU APPROVE OF STELLOVET'S MARRIAGE TO ME?"

"It was him!" Susannah sobbed as emotion seeped into her voice, "He told us that to beat Regalia, we needed you to help us through a democracy. He planned the meeting just now, when the delegates met with Luxa and the Council. Everything we said… every word, every nuance, was crafted solely by him. It was an elaborate scheme to use demo… demo… what is it called again?"

"Democracy," Gregor answered icily.

"Yes, democracy," Susannah said frantically, "He wanted to use that. But he knows… he knows democracy cannot win unless he has you on our side. He knows that you are the one who will swing it towards our favour. If Luxa somehow survives this power shift, then we go to war against Regalia. But otherwise, we are taking the path where there is the least bloodshed."

"But why does he want my marriage to Stellovet to be announced there and then?" Gregor asked in frustration, "Why?"

"I thought it was obvious, Overlander," Susannah said quietly, as if she was afraid each and every single word she uttered would offend Gregor, "He wants you and Luxa to break up. That is the only way we can isolate Luxa and vote for her to be ousted. By forcing Luxa to leave you, that would give you little reason to vote for her, because you no longer have to defend her and protect her. Ripred forced Luxa to hear about you and… my daughter, because he knew Luxa would be too emotional to hear any reasoning, and that she would abandon you for supposedly abandoning her. You were then supposed to garner votes against her."

"Ripred… He… He told you that?" Gregor asked incredulously, still too stunned to make sense of the whole situation, "Why would he… why would you… why would he do that?"

"It was all of us," Susannah said softly, "I am sorry you can no longer be with Luxa, Gregor. But it had to be done for the good of the Underland. We know how much Luxa means to you but your relationship must be sacrificed so that justice is served."

So all the jigsaw pieces had been arranged nicely for him, and it added up to a picture of horror and deceit and lies. Yes, he had his answers… but they were supposed to set him free into the light, not break his heart. Would Ripred truly betray Gregor and destroy Gregor's life just so that the Underland could survive?

Yes, yes Ripred would. That was a stupid question to ask. Ripred would do whatever he deemed necessary in order to do what he thought was right. He had lied to Gregor before, back when the plague had struck Regalia. He had promised that Gregor only needed to stay down for a couple of days, but Gregor ended up being embroiled in a bitter and painful experience having to watch good people die.

The truth had unravelled itself in the end, but Gregor only found himself even more alone.

 _Ripred._

 _Ripred._

 _Ripred._

That conniving, deceitful rat. That son of a bitch had torn Gregor's whole life down for himself, and even when Gregor had accepted all the suffering that the rat had inflicted on him, he continued to spit in Gregor's face by taking away the one person who still gave Gregor hope.

But Ripred didn't care. He scarcely believed in hope anyway.

He hadn't even consulted Gregor- of course he didn't. Any sign of weakness and sympathy could potentially scupper his plans, so of course he didn't bother to tell Gregor or give him a heads-up. He left Gregor shocked, reeling, stunned, bleeding and broken, just so that the plan could work. A plan to introduce democracy as a lie and then take it away from Regalia when he needed it to, or when it suited his own agenda.

Ripred was a liar.

Gregor could barely contain the emotions that were beginning to consume him. He admired Ripred. He respected Ripred. He _trusted_ Ripred. Who else trusted Ripred?

But most of all, he loved Ripred. Not the romantic kind of love, but he loved Ripred like an older brother or a father. He had always believed that while Ripred was a warped monster on the surface, deep down he was a good rat. One of the few good rats in the Underland who genuinely wanted to end war and establish peace.

The shock and hurt was quickly subsumed by his anger, which had slowly built up into an inferno. To betray Gregor like this and to break his heart was one thing, but for Ripred to do it… No, that was a whole new level of rage for gregor. Ripred was going to pay for betraying the trust Gregor had placed in him.

"Gregor," Susannah spoke up, "Please do not hate us for this. We were doing this for your good too. Staying so near Luxa is never a good idea. The kind, innocent girl she once promised to be was lost the day her parents died. You were having a relationship with an empty soul. It was a necessary betrayal on Ripred's and our part to protect you and the Underland."

"You have no right," Gregor snarled, "You have no right to tell me all of this. You have no right to ruin my life and expect me to accept that you are protecting me. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

Susannah instantly backpedalled in her fright, while even York seemed fearful of Gregor's blazing fury. Gregor turned around and opened the doors to leave the room. Just before he exited, York called out behind him, "I will let you walk out of this city a free man, but mark my words Gregor, you will pay for what you have done. By attacking my city you have just legitimised an attack on Regalia from us."

Gregor glanced back at York and asked coldly, "What is your point?"

"As you represent Regalia," York said with an equally cold smile, "Regalia has technically invaded us through you. And you have given us the right to retaliate against you. And we will. If Regalia doesn't pay for this, then they will make you pay for bringing this war on them."

Gregor turned back around, but not before saying, "You know where to find me. And if you come looking for me…"

He deliberately trailed off and walked away. That threat should have been enough to wipe the smile off York's face. He was prepared to go to war with them anyway. He had nothing much left to fight for except for his own survival. Luxa had been stolen from him and Regalia was in shambles.

But before taking them on, he had one person to face first.

Or rather, one _rat_ to face first.

As Gregor walked out of the palace and whistled three times for Apollo, he thought he heard the wind cackling away gleefully as a chill descended upon the Underland.

It was time for the Lord of the gnawers to take on the legendary Warrior of Regalia.

A clash of ideologies.

Rat versus man. The Peacemaker versus the Warrior. Rager versus rager.

Ripred versus Gregor.

* * *

 **I know many of you didn't want a Gregor vs Ripred battle, but… well, I still can't confirm it will happen. But this chapter served as a means to set up Gregor's hatred towards Ripred, and I hope you enjoy how the conflict between the two has been set up over this first part of the story. But as I said, maybe there won't be a fight, depending on how things turn out. I hope you liked this chapter and I hope you will like the chapters to come ;)**

 **Anyway, I'd just like to announce I'm taking a break from updating next week because I'm busy and I'm exhausted. I hope I don't sound too selfish to the faithful readers of this story, but I really need a break. Hope to see you guys around again in two weeks time when chapter 12 comes up!**

 **Favourites and follows are welcome, as usual. And please drop a review too!**

 **Question: Just a fairly simple question regarding this chapter. Do you think Gregor is now justified in choosing to fight with Ripred? After all, Ripred did destroy his life. Since there are a lot of Ripred supporters out there, I think I shall help those supporting Gregor out. I think what we need to understand is that Gregor has no allegiance to the Underland, and thus has no obligation to defend it as a soldier. However, his life revolves around Luxa instead because she's his girlfriend and the love that keeps him sane and grounded in life. But anyway, let me know all your thoughts in your reviews.**


	12. Chapter 12: Battle Ground

**Hey everyone. Once again, as life gets hectic in the lead-up to the summer, I hope everyone has endured the past few difficult weeks. Please try to review my story when you have the time, though. Anyway, thank you to the following people who reviewed chapter 11: FierceDeity24, rlcapritta(Dragons Boy now, right?), phantom1299, A happy reader, Clytuis, DeathDrayanD, Alpha Death, trevorarnett32, Thiazzie, AresTheUnderlander, SlyIntellect, TheGreatAthlon5 and pyro159. I know there's one more guy who reviewed but unfortunately I don't know who you are because a glitch in the website is preventing me from reading reviews that have been submitted over the last few days.**

 **Anyway, some of you have expressed dismay over the fight between Gregor and Ripred. While I can't say it will happen for sure, all I can say is that I knew this would happen. At the start of the story I promised it would be controversial, and that's exactly what I've made this story. I'm taking risks and although some of you appreciate it, I understand that other people won't.**

 **Please remember to go to my profile page and check out the poll I have created at the top of the page. Do remember to vote so I have a better understanding of all your opinions.**

 **This chapter is from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Battle Ground**

Calvin parked his Bentley Continental GT next to the Rolls-Royce Phantom. The ultimate luxury vehicles that acted as a masquerade for his emotional poverty.

If the soul had no meaning and purpose, neither did all the goods in the world he owned.

He sighed to himself before slowly getting out of the car, feeling as if the talk with Mr Carter had aged him.

But the feelings of sadness and longing were suddenly banished when something caught Calvin's eye. He instantly moved towards a few small spots on the ground. He took out his handkerchief and picked one of the small objects up. Unevenly shaped, dusty, brown in colour… Bird droppings, maybe? Nope, definitely not bird shit… Was it some kind of faecal matter at all?

Definitely not. Mr Carter had trained him to observe faecal matter of foxes, rats and bats. This did not appear to belong to any of the above… so what was it? It took Calvin a couple more seconds to deduce what it was.

Mud.

Dried mud which was once caked to the sole of a boot.

It couldn't belong to Mr Carter or Calvin. Rain may have assaulted New York earlier, but there was no way that the mud they treaded on had dried so quickly. The mud was also incongruous when compared to the mud found on Calvin's sole right now. Which meant that the mud belonged to someone else.

With his senses on high alert, Calvin advanced towards the door of his house warily, searching for any other signs of the intruder or trespasser. Whether the trespasser intended harm or not, Calvin was not going to let him or her off lightly. He continued to scan the ground for any signs of other dried mud, but he found none. A careless mistake on the part of the intruder, then.

As Calvin walked to the doorway, his eyes immediately shot up to glance at the CCTV system.

As expected, the glow from the light wasn't there. It had been shut down long ago.

Why didn't the backup power system then come on? Or had that been disabled too?

Calvin was now absolutely certain that the intruder was not some harmless boy trying to play a prank on him. This was dead serious.

Calvin glanced up at the passcode system, which was encrypted and meant to deny anyone entry into the house, with the exception of Mr Bennett and himself. But as he began to dabble with the security system at the door, he quickly realised it had been disabled too. Silly him. If the CCTV system had been disabled, they probably had the capacity to disable his security system too. This was no ordinary burglar trying his luck at a rich man's home.

This was a coordinated ambush, and Calvin wouldn't be surprised if there was more than one person involved in this ambush. Based on the professionalism of the work done in shutting down his security system, Calvin could kind of deduce it was Operation Claw.

His thoughts went straight towards Mr Bennett's safety, and although he felt his heartbeat start to stampede he quickly quelled it. Now wasn't the time to panic. If he did, he could potentially risk losing both Mr Bennett's and his life. He needed to maintain his composure to stand any chance of surviving the next few minutes.

It was moments like these when he really missed his guns. They would have come in really handy in helping to combat the mercenaries who were waiting for him just behind the door. But then he remembered Vikus lying in a pool of blood right in front of him. Calvin thought he could hear the faintest sound of a gunshot coming from his fingers, but he wasn't sure.

He wasn't sure?

He shook his head. Vikus was being too much of a distraction. He had to focus on getting Mr Bennett put safely. As the door in front of him was the one that was electronically opened, that would mean that they would have to go to the other door, which could be manually opened. That door if tampered with could trigger the cops, but Operation Claw had probably disabled that system too.

He leisurely strolled to the wooden doors that stood between him and the ruthless mercenaries that had either killed Mr Bennett already or were holding him hostage. He instantly checked the lock and found tiny scratch marks showing fresh, shiny metal around the keyhole. The visible dents and scuff marks told him that they had used the oldest trick in the book.

Lock picking. So much for their expert professionalism.

Calvin took out his keys and casually unlocked the door, before stepping into the house calmly. He took off the bespoke jacket he was wearing and hung it up, trying to display sangfroid as the tension surrounding him went up a notch. "Mr Bennett, I'm home!" he called out nonchalantly.

He quickly mapped out a plan in his head. The key priority would be to get to his arsenal of weapons. Not the guns, but the other things he normally had in his utility belt. The flash-bang grenades, the gas and smoke pellets, the sonic devastator, the stun pellets… they could incapacitate instead of killing. They'd be perfect for Calvin to combat the mercenaries with. Those were all downstairs in the basement.

The problem was that they'd probably gotten there already. He may have had a security system, but knowing their technology they had disabled that too. It was only a matter of time before they discovered his arsenal of weapons.

Then his heart skipped a beat. Mr Bennett came shuffling down the hallway awkwardly. The body language told the whole story. He was under duress. Calvin could see all the signs- the tense shoulder muscles, the sweat gathering around his brow, the stiffened facial expression. The red marks around his wrists indicated that he was bound earlier. So they had gotten to Mr Bennett first.

Calvin needed to act quickly or both of them would be dead within seconds. Mr Bennett had emerged from the kitchen, meaning that there were probably at least two of them hiding there. Another one probably waiting for him near the entrance into the living room. He had to get to the living room to get to the stairs, which meant that one way or another, he was going to have to go through at least one of them.

"Hello, Calvin," Mr Bennett said in a surprisingly calm tone.

Calvin was running out of time and options. "Get down", he mouthed to Mr Bennett, still unsure of what to do next.

At the very least, Mr Bennett seemed to acknowledge the message, as he nodded slowly and deliberately.

Then Calvin had an idea. He sprang forward as nimbly and quietly as possible. Just as he made his way past Mr Bennett, he threw his keys at the entrance leading from the hallway into the living room.

The keys flew through the air and clattered with a shrill sound against the doorway.

That provoked furious gunfire as a hail of bullets from two directions tore through the walls ferociously, firing in the direction of the keys. Calvin then rushed into the kitchen and instantly dived to the ground, rolling straight into the mercenaries and avoiding their gunfire totally. He hammered his head into the groin of one of them, wincing from the throbbing pain that now stung his head. As the mercenary howled in pain, he immediately capitalised on the confusion to get up and wrap one arm around the mercenary's neck, while jabbing the mercenary's ulnar nerve with the other.

The mercenary dropped the gun and Calvin now used his free hand to grab his knife and press it against his throat. He quickly took in his surroundings. Two mercenaries, pointing their rifles at him. Calvin saw one of them tightening his finger around the trigger.

Of course they were prepared to let a fellow mercenary die. Calvin should have seen this coming.

He threw the knife at the mercenary about to pull the trigger. The knife hit the mercenary's left shoulder. Calvin then applied pressure to the throat of the mercenary he was choking. The mercenary's body instantly became limp. He wasn't dead, but Calvin suspected he was going to be out for at least the next twenty minutes.

He shoved the unconscious mercenary forward, surprising the other two mercenaries. Calvin spotted the frying pan searing with oil in it. That was probably his dinner.

Calvin raced forward and grabbed hold of the handle, before flinging the sizzling oil at one of the mercenary's face. His screams of agony almost made Calvin feel sorry for him. Calvin grabbed a glass and threw it at the same mercenary's face, smashing against his forehead and sending him unconscious.

Calvin then charged forward at the mercenary bearing the knife in his left shoulder, who was similarly groaning in pain. Just as he turned around to shoot Calvin, Calvin swung the frying pan at his face. The piping hot metal smashed his face, causing his screaming to move up one pitch higher. Calvin hit his face a second time with the frying pan, and just as the mercenary sagged forward from the blow, Calvin finished him off with a vicious kick to the head.

Just then another mercenary entered the fray, stepping into the kitchen to get involved. Calvin instinctively threw a plate at him, and the mercenary instinctively shot it in mid-air. The plate broke in mid-air and its scattered pieces cascaded across the floor. A beautiful sight in slow motion, if Calvin had the time to enjoy it.

Calvin now grabbed a steak knife and hurled himself forward. He stabbed it into the mercenary's right bicep, causing him to drop the gun with a yelp of pain. Calvin slammed his palm into the mercenary's chin and sent the mercenary staggering back. Another punch from Calvin broke the mercenary's protective mask and sent the mercenary reeling again from the blow. Calvin then rammed him into the wall with a roar, before slamming the mercenary's head against the wall with a solid shove.

The mercenary slumped down clearly knocked out cold from the blow. Calvin glanced down at his hand. His blood flowed down his hand like a stream flowing down a valley. He winced slightly as he fingered his knuckles. Even if they weren't broken, they had definitely taken a hit that was beyond what he could usually take.

Shrugging the pain off, Calvin calmly walked out of the kitchen and back into the hallway, where he was confronted by the sight of a mercenary holding a gun to Mr Bennett's head. "Game's over, Mr Oberton!" the mercenary called out, "Time for you to come with us!"

So this wasn't an attempt to assassinate him… this was a kidnapping attempt. Calvin had no idea why they were pursuing him, but he wasn't going to throw in the towel and meekly surrender to them.

He glanced at the mercenary closely, who had taken his protective visor off to speak to Calvin. To Calvin's mild surprise, the mercenary actually looked far too relaxed. Sure, when you were fighting a kid you didn't need to panic, but there was something about his body language that just spoke of… satisfaction? Why would he be satisfied with this current situation?

But Calvin's concern about the mercenary's body language was quickly dispelled. The mercenary's eyes widened ever so slightly and his pupils seemed to dilate. He was seeing something that was about to happen. There was a flicker of a smile playing on the edges of his lips.

Calvin spun around and found himself face-to-face with another mercenary.

With lightning-quick reflexes, Calvin grabbed the nozzle of the gun and pushed upwards, pointing the nozzle in the direction of the ceiling. He then took a step to close the distance before kneeing the mercenary in the groin. He then used his free hand to punch the mercenary in the gut, although with the bulletproof vest the mercenary was wearing it did little harm.

The mercenary pressed down hard on the trigger, causing bullets to spray up into the air before showering the floor like rain pellets falling down. Gritting his teeth, Calvin slammed his body into the mercenary, sending the both of them sprawling across the floor.

Amidst the confusion, Calvin managed to quietly snatch a knife from the mercenary's utility belt. As the mercenary rolled around, Calvin lunged forward and deliberately slit both of the mercenary's wrists.

Then the mercenary's flailing boot hit his face and sent him flying to one side.

Calvin stumbled to his feet and found the mercenary training his weapon on him. Calvin took a quick glance at the man's wrists.

At first, he panicked when nothing seemed to happen. And then, just out of the corner of his eye…

A drop of blood dramatically dripped off his wrist and sploshed against the velvet carpet.

The mercenary's hands started vibrating violently, before he dropped the gun entirely as his hands trembled even more uncontrollably by the second. Calvin then raced forward and slammed the hilt of the knife into the mercenary's face, knocking him out for good.

Calvin then turned around to find the mercenary holding on to Mr Bennett pointing his gun at him. He had all the time in the world to shoot. Calvin knew that from experience. All a good shooter needed was half a second of a clear shot and he would take it with relish. Calvin should be dead by then. The mercenary had multiple opportunities to kill him. Why hadn't he pulled the trigger?

Calvin didn't bother wasting any more time or thought into wondering why he was still breathing. He immediately dove for the unconscious mercenary and hauled the body in front of him.

A gunshot rang out in the air.

Calvin flew back suddenly and his back slammed against the wall. For a split second, he wondered if he had been shot and he looked down. But there was no blood.

It dawned on him that the bullet had hit the bulletproof vest of the unconscious mercenary he was holding on to, and the impact of the shot had sent both parties flying back. Calvin could have spent all day counting his lucky stars that the bullet somehow missed his head.

Or had there been any luck involved at all?

No, the mercenaries had tried to kill him… right? They must have fired at him on a couple of occasions, which meant that they intended to… intended to kill him? But he had never known Snake's mercenaries to put up such a weak fight. It was as if they were begging to suffer an ignominious defeat and humiliation at the hands of an eighteen-year-old kid who hadn't fought for more than a year.

Something was definitely wrong.

But Calvin wasn't here to trade mercies with them. He noticed Mr Bennett giving the slightest of nods. The old man then stamped down hard on the mercenary's right foot, freeing up space for him to drive a fierce elbow strike into the mercenary's ribs. Calvin immediately sprinted forward as the mercenary pointed his gun back at Mr Bennett's head. As time continued to tick down slowly, Calvin threw himself into the air.

He could see everything in those split seconds he was in the air. The mercenary, distracted by some surprisingly vicious attacks from Mr Bennett, was a mere two seconds from ending Mr Bennett's life. Mr Bennett had a confident look of expectation in his eyes. He trusted Calvin to save his life. Calvin knew he couldn't let Mr Bennett down. Not now.

Mr Bennett ducked his head and gave Calvin the freedom to lash out with a savage kick at the mercenary's head. The mercenary flew back several feet as Calvin crash-landed unceremoniously on Mr Bennett. The two of them spiralled over and landed on the ground in a confused heap. Calvin's heart picked up the pace again when he heard Mr Bennett cry out slightly. Ignoring the need to turn and check out how his caretaker was doing, Calvin forced himself back onto his feet.

He charged straight at the mercenary, who was on one knee struggling to regain his bearings. Calvin mercilessly drove his knee into the mercenary's forehead, knocking the mercenary back down on his back. Calvin then stepped down on the mercenary's wrist and applied heavy pressure, not stopping until he heard a crack and the cry of agony which complemented it. Calvin then pinned the mercenary to the ground and hit the mercenary across the face with a ferocious right hook. The mercenary's head slumped to one side to confirm his unconsciousness.

Calvin took a deep breath and stumbled to his feet. He turned back around and hurried over to Mr Bennett, who lay on the floor clutching his ankle. The old man bit down on his tongue to hold himself back from screaming in pain. "What happened?" Calvin asked tentatively as he reached out to cradle Mr Bennett's ankle.

"You landed on it," Mr Bennett said accusingly, but not before managing a half smile, "But I'm still glad you came when you did."

"Is that the last of them?" Calvin asked as he supported Mr Bennett up. The old man wasn't going to be able to use his right foot for now.

"For now… There are more coming," Mr Bennett managed to cough out despite the feeling of pain being etched all over his face, "I… I overheard them talking about backup, if necessary."

Just then, Calvin took a quick look outside the window and spotted a black SUV being parked on the side of the road, just outside the gate into the mansion.

Calvin smashed the glass on one of the displays lining the hallway and took out a wooden staff, which had been a gift from a Chinese corporation to his dad almost a decade ago. "Use this," he said gruffly, passing the wooden stick to Mr Bennett, "Get to the arsenal downstairs and gather all my stuff. If they get past me and come for you, use anything down there against them. You know the grenades and bombs just as well as I do."

"You're coming with me," Mr Bennett insisted, "I will not have you fighting them on your own!"

"Sorry Mr Bennett," Calvin replied firmly, "But that wasn't a request. It's an order."

"Don't be stupid, Calvin!" Mr Bennett snapped at him, "They're not your ordinary fox. They'll kill you on the spot. You don't have your-"

"Guns?" Calvin finished as he picked up a rifle on the floor, "I can handle myself. Just get down to the basement and protect yourself."

Mr Bennett's look of frustration soon transformed into a look of anxiety. "Be careful," he said softly, before hobbling off reluctantly towards the stairs with the assistance of the wooden staff.

Calvin then took another glance out of the window and saw three mercenaries calmly walking up the driveway with their rifles in hand. As much as he wouldn't admit it out loud, this was an insult to Calvin's ability. He had taken down six mercenaries within a span of ten minutes, and now only had to handle half that number.

But where was Snake?

He took another quick peek out of the window and observed his incoming assailants. None of them appeared to be the infamous mercenary. All of them lacked his imposing and hulking body frame, and each one of them also looking slightly relaxed. Snake didn't seem like the kind of guy who would take any mission as lightly as the three incoming mercenaries appeared to be.

This wasn't the time to display weakness or mercy, though. He would get to the bottom of the whole matter, but for now he had to focus on taking them out. That was the sole priority right now, and nothing could be in his way to distract him.

He slowly backed away, counting the seconds in his head. Within the next ten seconds, they would…

The doors flew open dramatically with an earth-shattering explosion. Calvin had no time to weigh his options anymore. It was time for years of hard experience and instinctive muscle memory to guide him out of this predicament.

He turned around and dashed for the library, as the sound of thundering gunfire tore the silence to pieces. A couple of bullets ricocheted off the walls and nearly hit him on his way, but Lady Luck seemed to swat the bullets aside to protect him as he kept his head low and made a mad dash towards the library.

He threw himself through the glass doors and into the library, hissing in pain as shards of glass bit down on his skin. He shrugged the pain off and began making his way deeper into the library. He quietly thanked his father for all those years of gathering manuscripts and books. Together, on rows upon rows of wooden shelves, they formed the perfect maze. The library wasn't gigantic, but it was big enough for Calvin to take on three mercenaries.

He looked down at the gun in his hand and he made a face in disgust. Guns, which had once been treasured like gold bars to him, now appeared to be nothing more than a greasy, blood-stained workman's tools in his hands. A weapon which took the lives of human beings who didn't deserve to die by his hand. He didn't exist to play judge, jury and executioner. He existed to protect the lives of the disenfranchised and vulnerable, and the weapon in his hands did exactly the opposite to them. He was nothing but a cold-blooded murderer at the end of the day if he used it.

No better than the people who had killed his father.

But now it had its uses. In about half a minute, he hastily removed a few books from one of the shelves and propped the gun up in position. He quickly backed away to survey his handiwork. The nozzle could be seen just jutting out from the shelf, which was perfect for his plan. He now softly made his way through the book shelves and got into position.

He didn't have long to wait. As expected, the sound of glass being crushed reverberated around the room. The mercenaries had inadvertently alerted him to their presence by stepping on the glass shards, which was the first part of the plan. As the intensity in the room increased, Calvin felt sweat clinging to his shirt as the sound of footsteps drew nearer and nearer. He did have the upper hand, though. None of them knew this library as well as he did.

"Split up," he heard one of the mercenaries bark gruffly, "He's got to be here."

That was his cue. Calvin grabbed one heavy book from the shelf next to him and tossed it across, before darting around the shelves. He closed his eyes and waited for the book to thud against the ground.

The moment it did, he heard the sound of gunfire echo across the room. This was his chance to do some damage.

He walked around one of the shelves and found himself facing the back of one of the mercenaries. The mercenary was aiming in the direction of the fallen book, which was the intended effect. Calvin wrapped his arm around the mercenary's neck and applied the pressure, beginning to choke him.

As expected, the mercenary pressed hard on the trigger, causing bullets to fly out wildly all over the place. "Jake?" Calvin heard one of the other mercenaries call out, "Did you get the kid?"

Spittle flew out of Jake's mouth as he tried to talk, but Calvin then used his free hand to pull the pistol in Jake's belt out, before slamming the handle of the gun against his forehead. Jake's head lulled forward to indicate he was no longer conscious, leaving Calvin to gently place his body on the ground. Still holding on to the pistol, Calvin fired two rounds into the air to signal where Jake's body was.

He then sprinted to another hiding place, positioning himself behind another shelf. They were now walking back towards Jake's unconscious body, which meant that at least one of them was going to come face to face with the nozzle of the gun which he had propped up earlier.

He waited for it. The sudden reactive gunfire which would ensure.

And then it came. He heard a scream of surprise before gunfire ripped through the tense atmosphere in the library, destroying the peace and silence that normally came hand in hand in this place of reading and learning. Calvin would have laughed at the hilarity of the thought, but considering the situation all he could manage was a grim smile at the irony.

As the gunfire continued to follow, Calvin quietly made his way around the bend of another shelf and found himself facing the back of the mercenary, as expected. The mercenary was too busy firing at the gun which had been propped up to notice Calvin sneaking up on him. Calvin ruthlessly brought the handle of the pistol down on the back of the mercenary's neck with full force.

The blow caused the mercenary to crumple down instantly and lie flat on the ground. Calvin knew that the mercenary had just sustained a possibly crippling wound, but he was pretty sure that it wouldn't be fatal. The worst case scenario would be that he would be paralysed for life, which he fully deserved having been a twisted and warped murderer.

Bullets now penetrated the shelves and flew in his direction, forcing him to duck down and roll on the ground for cover. He threw himself behind another shelf as splinters of wood flew off shelves violently.

One more mercenary left. Just one more.

He heard the footsteps of the mercenary drawing nearer and nearer. It was almost time. He flexed and stretched his muscles, ready for a feat he had once been physically capable of doing. But years of toiling in the office and helping kids in Africa had weakened his resolve and his strength.

But he wasn't going to let that be an excuse. Not when there was so much at stake and not when Mr Bennett's life was the price to pay for a lack of physical strength. Physical strength was not a limiting factor. It was the mind which could push a body beyond its limits and force it to perform feats of strength which appeared to be downright impossible.

And Calvin's mental strength was ready for the push.

The footsteps were now pretty much slamming down on his eardrums. That was how close the mercenary was- on the other side of the bookshelf. He had positioned himself perfectly for Calvin.

"WHERE ARE YOU, KID?" the mercenary yelled out in frustration.

Calvin didn't bother to answer him with any words. Instead, he shut his eyes and prayed silently for strength. And then, with all the energy and power he could muster from his muscles and sinew, he heaved against the bookshelf.

At first, he panicked when it made a creaking sound but did not move. If this failed, he would have pretty much alerted the mercenary to his presence on the other side of the shelf.

But then he pushed himself. Exerting every single last ounce of strength he still had left in his bones, he called on his mind to give him that extra bit more.

And then the shelf began to groan and teeter over.

And in that moment, more than a thousand pounds worth of books and the shelf itself came crashing down on the mercenary, whose scream was muffled as it collapsed on him and pinned him underneath mountains of books.

Calvin panted heavily as he leaned back against another shelf. But amidst his ragged breaths, he managed to afford a small smile of satisfaction. They had all been taken care of by him. An eighteen-year-old kid had been able to outsmart top military soldiers.

And that was when the smile inverted upside down and became a frown.

Because a single question kept echoing repeatedly inside his head amidst the euphoria of surviving this assault…

Why was he still alive?

"That's a good question," the mercenary chuckled, "The best answer is that you got lucky."

With the help of Mr Bennett, Calvin was able to round up the unconscious mercenaries, confiscate their weapons and handcuff them. A call to the police had probably been made by one of the neighbours following all the explosions and gunfire, which meant that Calvin didn't have a lot of time to get the answers he needed. He was going to have to speed up the interrogation before the cops came round.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for," Calvin snarled as he grabbed the collar of the mercenary's outfit and shook him roughly, "You guys could have killed me so many times. Why didn't you?"

"Why does it bother you?" the mercenary replied mockingly, "Does it hurt your ego to know we were superior to you? If you really wanna die, then you can go find it yourself."

"What do you mean?" Calvin growled as menacingly as possible.

The mercenary chuckled again before answering, "I'm sure he'd be willing to take you on. But he ain't gonna come to you. You gotta go to him."

"Snake?" Calvin asked.

"Who else?" the mercenary cackled derangedly, "The man's obsessed with ya."

"Where is he?" Calvin snarled threateningly.

"Where else?" the mercenary laughed, "On a farmhouse in Virginia."

Virginia. Calvin knew that state meant something to him.

Virginia.

Farmhouse in Virginia.

Farmhouse?

Oh no.

OH NO.

"MR BENNETT!" Calvin roared as he got up and began making his way towards the arsenal hurriedly.

"What is it, Master Calvin?" Mr Bennett called out as he shuffled forward with the help of the wooden staff.

"After the cops pick these guys up, you have to go to the Underland!" he called out as he began to make his way down the stairs towards the basement, "You have to go there and warn Gregor!"

"Warn Gregor about what?" Mr Bennett asked.

Calvin looked back up, and unable to keep the panic of out his voice, he replied,

"Tell him that Operation Claw is going after his family!"

* * *

 **Some of you(pyro159 in particular) have been waiting for Gregor's family to show up, and so here's how they show up! I hope you liked this chapter in setting up the events to come in the future. Another action-packed chapter, so I hope you enjoyed this one. I've made Calvin's fighting style different from Gregor's fighting style. Calvin is more of a master tactician in battle, while Gregor can rely on his rager abilities and skills to use physical brute force against his enemies. Gregor is also more brutal considering his age and the tragedies he's been through, while Calvin always tries to resort to non-lethal means. Once again, I hope you liked this chapter and the action in it.**

 **Favourites/follows are always welcome. Reviews are encouraged too. And remember to check out the poll and vote!**

 **Question: I accept that there may be a chance of my story being spoiled with this question, but I'm guessing some of you would like to answer this with relish so I honestly don't mind- What do you think is going to happen next? Will Calvin go there alone to take on Snake, or will he take the mercenaries on along with Gregor? Feel free to share your predictions in your reviews.**


	13. Chapter 13: Old Days

**Hey guys! Seems like many of you have been busy… I'm guessing that exams and stuff have prevented you guys from reviewing the last chapter, but that's fine. If you guys wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate hearing some of your thoughts on my last couple of chapters if you haven't expressed them already. But to those that did review, you have my utmost gratitude. Thank you to: Jallex(nice to meet you), trevorarnett32, A happy reader, Clytuis, FierceDeity24, DeathDrayanD, AresTheunderlander, Jacob0503, Dragonsboy(don't worry, Ripred is still in this story), a guest reader, mcmlxxvii and last but certainly not least, Alpha Death.**

 **This chapter is deliberately more light-hearted since there have been some people who have expressed how they dislike how dark this story has become. It honestly pained me a lot because one particularly faithful reader and reviewer left because it has become too dark. If you have similar thoughts, please express them to me as soon as possible so that I understand better how my readers think.**

 **Some of you have pointed out parallels with Captain America: Civil War. I assure you that I had planned the nature of the Gregor vs Ripred fight long before I watched that movie, so it's not going to be ripped off that movie. On another note, I should probably clarify that Gregor vs Ripred will not be the focal battle of this story. It might be the most epic, but it won't be the main focus.**

 **Oh and if you haven't done so yet, vote in the poll which is on my profile page.**

 **This chapter is from Calvin's point of view.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Old Days**

" _I wish Mom was here," Calvin said softly as he stared at the placid ocean wistfully. The waves gently rolled up the seashore, creating a soothing sound which tamed the aggressive anxiety that arose in Calvin's little chest every single time he thought of his mother._

 _He didn't need to see the hidden gems that were concealed underneath the rumbling, thunderous surface of the sea. The surface was beautiful and dazzling the way it was. His mind quickly got lost in the rhythmic percussion of the waves lapping against the sandy shores. He grinned to himself quietly as his face felt the touch of the warm glow from the last few orange rays before twilight was consumed by the darkness and the stars._

 _The darkness wasn't too bad as well. The stars shone all the more brilliantly against the black skies, and there was always the faint feeling of nostalgia and hope lingering in the background. The stars were all the light they had before the sun rose the next day._

 _But the darkness frightened him sometimes. The fear of the unknown and of being unable to see anything… a fear which Calvin had fought so hard against as a toddler. It was only after years of sheer grit and determination that he had driven that fear away, but eventually it was still deeply rooted in his heart. The gripping cold of the night would always haunt him in the remote wastelands of his mind. The inevitable sinister laughter could always be heard every time a shadow fell over Calvin, whether it was on his bed or down the street._

 _But the night was always darkest before the dawn. Even though all good things would come to an end, even though all beautiful things came crashing down to reveal its long-running charade, there was still hope. Because all good things that went would be replaced by other good things eventually. Even if one day the immortal legacy of his father somehow disappeared into irrelevance, his own immortal legacy would shine in his father's place._

 _Or would it?_

" _I wish Mom was here too," his father replied, unable to stave off the emotion which had filtered into his voice._

" _I wish she had seen what I had become," Calvin continued, "I wish she saw me as the Gunner saving innocent lives. She'd be proud, right? Whatcha think, Dad?"_

" _She'd be proud," his father agreed as his eyes glimmered with tears of pain and sorrow, "But I hope you know I'm proud of you too, son."_

" _I wish you'd seen what I've become, Dad," Calvin replied sadly, "I wish I didn't have to do this alone."_

" _I'm sorry for letting you down, son," his father's head dipped down in embarrassment. "I never wanted to leave you alone in this world. It's cold and dark and… It's not a world that cares for a ten-year-old boy who lost both his parents. And I'm sorry I left you in that world."_

 _Calvin remembered his friends telling him that the end of the world was coming when he was still in elementary school. He must have been Grade 6 or something when they rushed up to him, frantically rattling away all the natural disasters that were supposed to ravage the earth bare._

 _They told him that buildings would come crashing down, they told him that the ground would split right open… That was what the end of the world looked like to them._

 _They didn't know that the end of the world was over for Calvin._

 _It started the day Mom came back from Africa with a bad stomach, and it ended the day his dad's coffin was lowered into the grave._

 _To them, the sound of the end of the world would be the collapsing skyscrapers and roaring hurricanes which would devour New York. The sound of the end of the world for Calvin was the priest's sermon as his father's coffin was buried under six feet of soil._

" _Why did you go?" Calvin asked so softly that the breeze sounded like an ear-piercing scream in contrast._

 _The bright tears in his father's eyes now eclipsed the stars which glittered across the night sky. "Calvin," he began slowly, "I… You know I had to do it. I couldn't let them destroy the Underland. There are good people down there, Calvin… you've seen them, right?"_

" _Why were their lives more valuable than yours?" Calvin asked miserably as he felt his heart begin to break all over again. "Why were they more valuable than MINE? Remember what we spoke about, Dad? Remember after Mom's funeral? Remember how you promised me that you'd stay with me till I grew up? We had so many plans, remember? College, then running the company together, then going on a beach holiday together. Remember how you told me you'd play with my kid and teach him to grow up like his dad?"_

" _I wanted to, Calvin," his dad replied in that melancholic tone of his, "I swear I wanted to. But there are times when we need to sacrifice ourselves. The moral arc of the universe does not bend towards justice on its own, Calvin. Sometimes Man has to bend it back ourselves, and that's what I tried to do."_

" _We could have grown up a happy family," Calvin responded forlornly. "We didn't have to go to Zimbabwe to meet the poor kids. We could have just given them money and be done with it. We didn't have to visit them and cause Mom to fall sick. And you didn't have to go up against Operation Claw. We could have lived as a happy family, Dad. The three of us together. Just the way we were meant to be."_

" _Forgive me," his father choked out disconsolately as tears trickled down his cheeks. "Forgive me, Calvin. I wanted to… I wanted to protect all of you. I never wanted to hurt all of you. I'm so, so sorry Calvin. I'm so sorry."_

 _The stars now faded away into the desolate shade as darkness reigned. Calvin felt tears slipping out of his eyes slowly and crawling down his cheeks. "I don't blame you Dad. I would have done the same in your position. It's just… It's just that we could have been happy. There was a time before all this when we were happy and at peace. And I've waited so, so long Dad. I've been waiting ever since Mom passed away. I've been waiting for that same happiness and peace to come back. But it never comes back. And the worst part is that I don't think it ever will."_

 _The dark skies wept tearlessly as his father replied softly, "That day may never come. But even if you never see it, you must carry on doing what you know is right. You may not find happiness with me ever again, but you can find happiness through protecting others like you. There are good people out there Calvin, if you choose to look for the goodness in these people."_

" _There isn't much good left on this earth," Calvin said bitterly, "Neither aboveground nor underground."_

" _That may be the case," his father responded, "But even if there's just that little bit of good left in this world, it's worth fighting for. And you must fight for it, so that a ten-year-old boy somewhere out there won't have to see his father and mother die before he can tell them that he loves them. Calvin, I know I've said this before, and I will say this again-_ _The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."_

 _Calvin bowed his head down and mumbled, "Am I really a good man?"_

 _But when he looked up, his father was already long gone._

* * *

Calvin opened his eyes amidst the intensifying glare of the awakening sun. The brightness and heat almost jolted him up as he slowly took in his surroundings. He found himself leaning against the steering wheel and his heart skipped a beat when he recognised that he was in his car. But then he quickly realised that his car was still parked in a corner parking lot, not spinning about wildly on the road.

His memory slowly creeped back into his consciousness and details of the last few hours became clearer and less hazy. He remembered gathering a whole bunch of equipment he was going to need- the grenades, the devices, the keys, the night-vision goggles… and of course, the kevlar armour that he had bought a couple of years ago. He hadn't brought it down to the Underland, and it had been sitting in one of the drawers of his arsenal, having pretty much been rendered obsolete following Calvin's decision to stop fighting.

The kevlar armour was just for protection. He hadn't brought any guns with him because he still stood by the principle that killing was unacceptable and just downright wrong. But if he was going to come up against gunfire, then he was going to need some kind of safeguard so that he wasn't going to sustain injuries easily or lose his life in the process.

As his murky vision began to dissipate and as everything began to come into focus, Calvin sluggishly reached out towards his night goggles. Seeing as this was still the wee hours of morning, he doubted that he would have to use it. Better to be safe than sorry, though.

By the time he had left the mansion, darkness had already settled down on New York City as the roads began to suffocate from traffic jams as nocturnal teenagers and adults roamed around the city to enjoy the New York nightlife. Calvin still felt stirrings of frustration in his gut as he waited in the jam, but that was the price to pay for living in New York. Rushing over to Virginia was impossible when New York's roads were so congested and packed like sardines.

Calvin recalled staring up into the night sky in frustration as horns blared across the street and the bustle of Times Square rumbled across the roads. His eyes skimmed the ocean of darkness, fighting desperately to see even the slightest hint of a glimmer. But New York's skyscrapers and lights had blinded its people from seeing the natural beauties scattered across the universe. Calvin always looked back on stars with strong feelings of sadness as they always triggered memories of times with his dad and mom. The good old days of sitting together in the Maldives, with his mother wrapping her arms around him and his father trying to point out the different constellations to him.

Calvin snapped out of his obsessive reminiscing and stared ahead at the I-95. It was almost time to get back on the road and finish the last couple of hours on the road to Virginia. As groggy as he had been driving through the night, he was absolutely sure he had driven through Washington D.C., which meant that he was pretty close to Richmond and therefore, only a couple of hours away from Gregor's Virginia farm.

Calvin's heart began to palpitate as fears for Gregor's family began to unveil themselves in front of him. He thought he saw a family of four crossing the highway, before a hail of bullets flew through the air, tearing through their bodies and leaving them strewn across the road, their bodies mutilated by the shooting…

Calvin shook his head firmly and forced himself to calm down. If Snake was holding them hostage to get to Calvin and Gregor, that means they were still alive. They were counting on Calvin to keep his cool and save them. If there was ever a time to become absolutely cold-blooded and rational, it was now.

His heart nearly burst into an exhilarating sprint again when he thought he saw Vikus hobbling out of a restroom, his eyes blazing with fury and vengeance as he made a beeline towards Calvin's car. But the vision of Vikus disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, with the old man's bloodthirsty eyes replaced by the mild, gentle complexion of a weathered man in his forties ambling towards his car.

Calvin took in a deep breath. No matter how hard he tried to push them away, the visions of Vikus never failed to distract him everyday. Somehow, Vikus' image would be imposed or plastered on normal people, frightening Calvin in every dark corner or when he was isolated. He wondered quietly to himself whether Vikus was haunting him by pretending he was there when he wasn't. That was some next level haunting but it wasn't unfathomable. Five years ago he hadn't even known about the existence of the Underland. Was it really so difficult to believe that Vikus was taking revenge for losing his life at the hands of Calvin?

No… Vikus didn't do that. Calvin had known Vikus for a while. The man believed in hope and kindness and the goodness of the human spirit. It was just too far-fetched to believe that someone so good and so optimistic would become a bitter spirit haunting Calvin at every turn in his life.

But for all of Vikus' goodness, Calvin still wasn't so sure. There seemed to be a nagging feeling and sentiment within him that if Vikus did have the chance… For one, Calvin had seen good men fall. Gregor, Mareth… hell even Conrad was a good man at one point. Who knows what Vikus had become in the afterlife?

He barely knew Vikus anymore. Two years had passed, and memories of Vikus had become nothing but blurred images stored in Calvin's convoluted mind. Even if he once knew Vikus as a kind man, he couldn't trust his judgement anymore. Not when this complex and intricate world had altered his hopeful view of society and the people around him. Not when justice was an abstract term that invoked the slightest feelings of positivity and nothing more. Call Calvin a cynic, but it was the cold reality that had taken him years to realise. Nobody cared whether you were a man of principles or values. The world only cared for you as long as it needed you. Beyond that, you were worth nothing more than the trash found littered down a forgotten alleyway.

Where was justice when an old father was abandoned by his son and left on the street, crippled and homeless? Where was justice when children were being slaughtered mercilessly in wars spread out across the globe? Where was justice when the single mother of three was retrenched for no good reason? Where was justice when the kid who was bullied in school was driven over the cliff and committed suicide? Where was justice when the very system put in place by the government was corrupt or inefficient, and criminals could saunter out of court with an arrogant smile etched across their face?

Where was justice when a group of assassins murdered his father for trying to save a whole civilisation?

Calvin started up the engine of his car and gritted his teeth. The philosophical pondering had to be postponed, because the lives of Gregor's family counted on it. He reversed out of the parking lot aggressively, ready to send this car hurtling down the highway towards Virginia…

… when he slammed into another car driving by. Calvin's seatbelt stopped him from being flung out of his seat, but he still jolted forward from the impact of the crash. Breathing heavily, he unbuckled his seatbelt with a slight groan, before opening the car door and staggering out into the open.

A crowd of people froze in their tracks and gawked at the scene, unavoidably drawn to the possibly morbid sight of a car crash. Cursing under his breath, Calvin shrugged off their penetrating gazes and strode over to the other car, which was engulfed in swirling smoke. Calvin's heart leapt when he saw the driver's limp body slumped to one side, looking like his neck had been snapped by the impact of the crash. But then his body twitched slightly, and with a slight stretch, the driver opened the door and walked out onto the carpark.

The first thing Calvin noticed was his height. He stood at about just over six foot one, and while Calvin himself was pretty close to six foot tall himself, this man clearly had an advantage of height over him. While Calvin was broad-shouldered, he could tell that this man was pretty muscled as well, even if his body language suggested he was haggard and a little disinterested in life.

He wore a short-sleeve T-shirt, revealing the pulsating veins that ran along his arm like streams. His jeans were tattered and they literally looked like they were taken from a dump. Grime and dark, mouldy patches were dotted all over the jeans, which made Calvin feel slightly nauseous. His nose wrinkled up in disgust as the foul stench of garbage and waste entered his lungs. Covering his mouth politely so that the man wouldn't have to see him gag, Calvin continued to take in the man's odd appearance.

Calvin's eyes settled on the most striking detail about the man. A black bandana was wrapped around his face, covering any definable features. He wore a pair of shades, which made the whole situation much more unnerving. Calvin always felt that men wearing shades were not meant to be messed with, even if that line of logic was just plain ridiculous.

The man's imposing build was complemented by the black duffel bag he was carrying with his right arm, which was all the more surprising considering the impact of the crash didn't seem to startle or faze him at all. It just seemed as if he had… expected? Was that the right word? He seemed to expect the crash to happen.

The man leaned over to take a glance at Calvin's BMW 5 Series. Calvin followed his line of vision and his gaze settled on the back of his car, which had taken a heavy dent but was still relatively in good condition compared to the mysterious man's Mini Cooper, which looked like it had been driven through the fires of hell at least ten times.

The man then looked up at Calvin and nodded. Calvin frowned in confusion. What did that nod mean?

The man that grabbed the car plates at the front and back of Calvin's car and ripped them off, before snapping them into several pieces one by one and dumping them in the boot of Calvin's car. He then proceeded to tear off the car plate number of another innocent car before tossing it into the boot of Calvin's car, but without tearing it into pieces this time. That action elicited a shocked gasp from the onlookers, who began to whip out their iPhones to take a video of the scene. "Hey!" Calvin snapped at the man, "What the hell was that for?"

The man then calmly strolled over to the front of Calvin's car, before opening it and plopping his body into the passenger's seat. He then tossed the black duffel bag onto the backseat and took off his bandana. He followed up by taking off his shades and lying back in the car. Calvin opened the door to the driver's seat and got in hurriedly, ready to take the man out with a solid punch…

… before he held back his punch, legitimately shocked by the person sitting right next to him.

"I don't suggest you do that, Calvin," Mr Carter said nonchalantly, with a tinge of amusement trailing off his voice.

"What the hell is going on?" Calvin asked incredulously.

"We can change our car plate number when we get to Richmond," Mr Carter told him coolly, "But we better start moving fast, before the cops catch up with us."

"COPS?" Calvin almost screamed, "The cops are chasing us?"

"They're chasing ME," Mr Carter informed him, "Fortunately for us, I don't think they realised I escaped prison until this morning, which means we have a slight head start over them. But we have to start moving NOW, or our head start will be gone in the next couple of hours."

Calvin revved up the engine and maneuvered his way around Mr Carter's damaged Mini Cooper, before driving out of the rest stop and back onto the highway with the engine roaring away. "This must go from 0 to 100 in at least five seconds," Mr Carter remarked with admiration.

"Five and a half, actually, "Calvin corrected him, "And before we continue talking about this car, would you mind telling me WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?"

"That's a very important question to ask," Mr Carter replied with a hint of mild derision, "I'll just go straight to the point, shall I? I escaped from the prison facility to help you."

"A couple more details would be nice," Calvin replied with an equal amount of sarcasm.

"Mr Bennett rushed over to pay me a visit once you had left," Mr Carter explained, "He told me something about you rushing over to Gregor's Virginia farm. He might have added the word 'impetuous' somewhere."

"Yep, that's Mr Bennett," Calvin responded with a humourless chuckle.

"He also mentioned that he wanted to get me out of prison so that I could rush over to lend you a hand," Mr Carter recalled, "He rightly assumed that someone who has been out of the game for far too long would not be able to handle a troop of trained assassins."

"I'm fine," Calvin growled, "You shouldn't have come. You're only gonna get yourself hurt."

"Nonsense." Mr Carter dismissed Calvin's suggestion with a wave of his hand, "Prison has kept me in tip-top condition for a long time. I can handle myself. The question is whether you can?"

"You're being uncharacteristically humourous and irritating," Calvin replied, "You knocked your head this morning or what?"

"Something like that," Mr Carter answered with a grin, "I couldn't wait for all the paperwork to be done up before I could be released with Mr Bennett's help, so I had to escape through some unorthodox means, which involved the toilet, a couple of friends, and some pipes. It was quite a rush."

"No wonder you literally smell like shit," Calvin realised, making a face at the thought of Mr Carter crawling through all kinds of waste, "Did you bring a change of clothes?"

"In the duffel bag," he replied, gesturing at the black bag sitting in the backseat, "Brought some other equipment too, just in case. But judging from the bunch of toys I see you've brought, I don't think my equipment will be necessary. Looks like you've stocked up well in my absence."

"I've stocked up for moments like these," Calvin explained grimly, "When it truly counts."

"So much for you turning away from a life of violence," Mr Carter commented, "And if I may make an observation, it's that you've become uncharacteristically sullen recently."

"It's Gregor," Calvin tried to muster a joke, "His brooding has rubbed off on me."

"Clearly," Mr Carter agreed distastefully, "Not that it's something to be proud about."

"Where's Mr Bennett now?" Calvin asked him.

"He's probably handling all the questions from the press and the NYPD. I don't know how he's going to explain your disappearance, but he's a smart man. He'll figure something out."

"Damn it," Calvin sighed, "I wanted him to go to the Underland to warn Gregor, not hang around with the paparazzi."

"He didn't have much of a choice, lad," Mr Carter answered, his native British elocution overpowering his usually hybrid accent for a second, "He's got to handle the disappearance of the world's youngest billionaire. If they can't even find him, people will start becoming suspicious, and that's when your reputation takes a hit."

"Mr Bennett generally has a more reticent personality in the public eye," Calvin said worriedly, "He always lets me take the spotlight and it was the same when Dad was in control of the company. You think he's capable of dealing with the media and the pressure?"

"That man is more competent than most," Mr Carter said confidently, "If there's anyone to deal with your sudden absence and the attack on your home in a professional manner, it's him."

"Hmm," Calvin grunted, unconvinced by Mr Carter's reassurance, "He had a heart attack three years ago and hasn't really recovered. Now he's limping around with an injured ankle. How much can he take?"

"He can take anything for you, Calvin," Mr Carter replied with a soft sigh, "He's pretty much been your father for eight years. He'll do anything to keep you safe and happy. The man will be up and about as usual in no time. For you, he'll move faster than the speed of light to make sure he's got your back."

"Speaking of speed," Calvin continued, "How did you catch up with me?"

"I'm a better driver than you, Calvin," Mr Carter snorted, "Of course I'll be able to travel down these roads faster than you. You go everywhere on a private jet, but we common folk have to get used to driving a vehicle. And I was helped by the fact that you were snoozing in that rest stop."

"You're a better driver than me?" Calvin scoffed, "Oh please, you've been locked up for three years. Were you playing GTA in prison or something?"

"That's rude," Mr Carter shot back, "Just because my hair is greying doesn't mean I've lost my touch on the steering wheel. You should see yourself drive. You drive just like a female cripple."

"That was sexist and inappropriate," Calvin sighed out loud, "We're not in England anymore, Mr Carter. Anything may fly there but down here you'll get in trouble for saying something like that."

"Just a form of expression lad," Mr Carter replied, rolling his eyes, "You politically correct bastards can't even take a joke these days."

"Anyway, what's the plan when we get to Richmond?" Calvin asked, suddenly much more self-conscious about his driving.

"Well, we've gotten rid of your car plate so that people don't recognise this car as yours," Mr Carter reasoned, "So that's a start. I tore off someone else's car plate number, but we're not going to use it. We'll find another driverless car in Richmond and we'll swap that bloke's car plate with the car plate we have which is still intact. That should confuse the rozzers when they come searching for us."

"Rozzers?" Calvin asked, confused by Mr Carter's British terminology.

"Cops," Mr Carter corrected himself, "They'll be back on our trail soon but we'd have a different car plate number by then, so they should be pretty muddled up by the time we get to Gregor's home."

"You do realise by doing all of this we're making ourselves criminals on the run," Calvin pointed out.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this, lad," Mr Carter said apologetically, "I'm genuinely sorry for doing this. But we don't have any other choice. I have to protect you, even if you don't think it's necessary. You can't handle them on your own."

"It's just Snake, Mr Carter," Calvin said, unable to prevent himself from tensing up when mentioning the name of the mercenary, "He'll be all alone. He's just waiting for me to take him on."

"If he's a rager like you say he is, then you'd be foolish to take him on alone and expect to survive."

"I'm not expecting to survive and live through this, Mr Carter."

Mr Carter turned to Calvin in alarm and said, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me right," Calvin sighed, "The main objective there is to get Gregor's family to safety. If I have to distract him and sacrifice myself while doing so, then I'll do it."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Mr Carter swore exasperatedly, "Why the hell would you throw your bloody life away so rashly?"

"Gregor's sacrificed a lot for me," Calvin replied firmly, "It's time I made a sacrifice for him."

"Not your life, you blithering idiot!" Mr Carter shook his head fiercely, "You don't have to throw it all away like this. It'd dishonour whatever sacrifices Gregor made for you."

"We all die eventually Mr Carter," Calvin said wearily, "Whether it's today or tomorrow, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that we do what is necessary to protect whatever good is left in this world."

"You sound just like your father," Mr Carter observed, "Not that I always agreed with your father, but… The resemblance in your thinking is uncanny."

"You're not the first to say that," Calvin replied.

"So… when the cops come looking for you… how are you going to explain yourself?"

"I'll worry about that another time," Calvin answered, "We have more important things to focus on. If we somehow make it through today, then we'll consider all our options."

"That sounds about right," Mr Carter said with a nod, before adding, "Don't show Snake any mercy, Calvin. You might have sworn off killing, but you have to make an exception for him. From what I've heard, he wouldn't blink an eye before pulling the trigger on either of us. It's him or us. He won't care about the compassion you show to him."

"That's what makes it so important," Calvin argued, "It's compassion that separates me from him. We're no better than the bad people we fight if we kill like they do."

"If you won't do it, I'll do it myself," Mr Carter declared.

"Suit yourself," Calvin responded with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He wouldn't admit it out loud to Mr Carter, but he was really glad his mentor had gone through hell to join him. Calvin couldn't imagine how he'd take on Snake without the help of Mr Carter.

His slight loss of concentration nearly sent the car skidding onto another lane, almost causing an accident. He instinctively swerved hard on the steering wheel to put the car back on course.

"And that's why I'm the better driver," Mr Carter said smugly.

So much for Calvin being glad to be with Mr Carter.

* * *

 **I'll be honest, this chapter is deliberately more light-hearted towards the end because the next few chapters can get really dark very quickly. Hopefully you enjoyed the small bits of banter between Mr Carter and Calvin. Their relationship has evolved over the years, cos back then Calvin was young, immature and impatient, so Mr Carter had to be more strict with him. But now that Calvin's all grown-up, this really gives me the opportunity to explore their relationship further since they're more open with each other.**

 **Favourites and follows are greatly appreciated. Reviews are also encouraged!**

 **Question: The next chapter is called: To the Death. Predictions for that chapter are encouraged! Guess whose perspective it is in that chapter, and guess what happens!**


	14. Chapter 14: To the Death

**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews that have come in over the last week or so. Please continue to support and review the story, especially now that the summer is coming round. Thank you to the following people anyway who reviewed my story over the past week: phantom1299(welcome back!), FierceDeity24, A happy reader, DeathDrayanD, Random(nice to meet you), Clytuis, DragonFire03(nice to meet you too), AresTheUnderlander, DragonsBoy, Jallex, theGreatAthlon5(good to hear from you again), HumanicHedgeHog(you chose a good time to return), a guest reader, and last but not least, Alpha Death, who helped me with this chapter.**

 **This chapter deals with some themes and ideas that you personally might not agree with, which is fine. The views in this chapter do not represent my own but I'm using them to develop the plot of the story further. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, which will set up Chapter 15. The next chapter, by the way, is set to be my longest ever and I'm still working my hardest on it to bring it as close to perfection as I possibly can. So here goes Chapter 14.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: To the Death**

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Apollo asked, his soft voice shattering the unearthly silence that had enveloped them for the last couple of hours. Gregor had spent the time brooding and pondering over his conversation with Susannah and York. He felt sympathy for their plight but war was no way to solve the problem. Events in the Underland acted in cycles because of their primitive instinct of turning to war as the solution to conflicts and disputes. And no matter how much injustice they suffered or how justified they were in turning to war, it never ended well.

The reason why Gregor had lost so much faith in hope and morality all those years ago was because of the War of Time, which had banished any lingering doubts about the cruelty of the world he lived in. Calvin may have given him a glimpse of hope, but even that ended up being futile. It had taken the kid long enough, but he had finally figured out how cynical and unforgiving this world could be.

"I think so," Gregor replied tersely.

"I suppose you don't feel like sharing it with me," Apollo deduced from Gregor's flat tone.

"Yea," Gregor told him, "It's kinda private."

Another tense silence ensued, before Apollo said slowly, "You are going to fight Ripred, aren't you?"

Gregor was taken aback by Apollo's blunt statement, before he quickly recovered to reply, "Yes."

"I do not want to hazard a guess why," Apollo continued, "But something tells me that it is personal."

"It is," Gregor confirmed, before giving in to curiosity and asking, "How did you know?"

"I know we fliers do not have an acute sense of smell like the gnawers do, but I can smell anger from a mile away," Apollo explained, "And your anger is particularly intense. You were reeking of it when I picked you up just now."

"But how did you know I want to fight Ripred?" Gregor asked, genuinely intrigued by Apollo's deduction.

"It was quite obvious from the intensity of your anger. I could detect your rager senses still flowing through your body even when you were out of the Fount, which meant that you were prepared to use violence once you got back to Regalia. To be honest, I can still smell it on you right now."

"But how did you know it was Ripred in particular?"

"That's the interesting part. I can still smell fear off you. It may be very subtle and may even be a subconscious fear from your perspective, but it is there. You are scared, and there are not many people in Regalia who fall under the category of scaring the Warrior. In fact, there is only one in Regalia who really jumps to mind. I do not think you fear anyone else, and it is the same fear I got a whiff of earlier when you encountered Ripred before the meeting with the delegates."

Gregor stared ahead grimly. "Are you going to stop me?" he asked Apollo.

"No, Warrior," Apollo answered truthfully, "I will advise you against it, but I will not stop you. How Ripred caused you grief is something you can keep to yourself and is something which you can make your judgement on alone. But if you were to fight him, I urge you not to fight him based on whatever personal hurt he has caused and fight for the good of Regalia."

"I thought you said that Ripred is fighting for Regalia, and that by choosing to protect Luxa I'm fighting against the good of Regalia," Gregor recalled.

"Not necessarily," Apollo replied, "I have had some time to think about it while you were creating all that chaos in the Fount. Ripred may seem to be fighting to save Regalia, but sometimes he is so stubborn and blind to other opinions that he gets lost in his own ideals."

"What do you mean?" Gregor asked, a little confused by Apollo's abstract description of Ripred.

"We can all agree that Ripred is one of the smartest, if not the smartest of all the creatures in the Underland, let alone Regalia. But that does not make him infallible, and neither does that make him right. For all his brilliance, I think he has made one mistake so far."

"And what would that be?"

"Misunderstanding Regalians," Apollo answered, "While Luxa's tenure as monarch has been a turbulent one and while there are many people who want her to abdicate, the fact of the matter is that she still has a good number of ardent followers who would defend her to the death. If Luxa is removed forcefully from the throne, that would undermine any kind of stability we have left, and plunge Regalia back into another civil war, like the one when-"

"-Conrad was king," Gregor finished the sentence for Apollo.

Apollo was right. Ever since Luxa had a statue erected in her honour, it was not a rare sight to see people adoring her statue as if she were a goddess. This kind of fanaticism was something that Gregor didn't approve of, but Apollo was spot on when he said that Regalia would fall into another civil war if Luxa was ousted from power.

"The problem with the Underland these days," Apollo continued, "Is that we are starting to live in a society which is becoming increasingly hopeless and depressing. One day you might be playing with your father at home, and the next day he's flying off to war, knowing that he'll probably never return to play with his children again. And in a society which is devoid of hope and positivity, we turn to powerful entities and worship them as gods and goddesses. Take the Bane, for instance. He is no divine being, yet the rebel gnawers have somehow created a fanatical cult following, worshipping him as a fallen god. Luxa is now being portrayed as an omniscient and omnipotent goddess, and that's why she is failing in the eyes of the people. Luxa is far from being Regalia's worst monarch, but the expectations that rest on her shoulders are crushing her. Regalians expect her to perform miracles as a divine being would despite the fact that she's only human and makes mistakes."

"And every mistake she makes harms her reputation even more, because the people expect the monarch to be a goddess who makes no mistakes," Gregor concluded bitterly, "Sometimes I feel the same way."

"The price we all must pay for being the leaders of this great city," Apollo sighed, "And therein lies the problem with Ripred. He sees Luxa as weak, because she suffers for every mistake she makes. He sees her as an unstable woman who has no idea what she is doing with all that power in her hands. He's not wrong, but he's not right either. The solution is not to kick her off the throne but to reduce the expectations placed on her. That's when she can work in peace and make the right decisions. Ripred trying to force her off the throne is only making the situation worse for her and Regalia."

"He thinks he can do the job she cannot do," Gregor agreed, "he thinks he makes no mistakes."

"Again, he's not entirely wrong," Apollo pointed out, "He's probably the wisest person left in Regalia right now. But there are just far too many political implications by pushing her off the throne, and he's probably so stubborn that the implications do not matter to him. Ripred probably thinks he can crush any revolution without batting an eyelid, but he has no idea. None of you who live in the palace can hear the whispers in the streets and the talks of the bloodshed that these fanatics are willing to go to."

"And then there's our enemies," Gregor added, "They'll see us as weak once Luxa leaves the throne. We'll be pressured by our allies into giving in to their demands and we'll be attacked by the schemers and the rebels. We don't stand a chance without a monarch like Luxa."

"Don't forget Gorger and Conrad," Apollo reminded Gregor, "Gorger is as manipulative a gnawer as you will find and Conrad is still by all accounts alive. Who knows what mayhem those two might create in addition to the ongoing pandemonium?"

"Regalia will be seen as unstable," Gregor realised, "We'd attract too much attention from too many people. Why didn't Ripred consider this?"

"He probably did," Apollo replied frankly, "But he overestimates his own abilities to handle the problem and he underestimates the problems that will come. Ripred's old, Gregor. There's only so much physical and mental strain he can still endure. What if he dies in the midst of handling all these problems? What if somehow we are left with a power vacuum? Is some kind of… what was it called again… ah yes, democratic committee! Is some kind of democratic committee expected to take charge for him?"

"Don't even get me started on democracy," Gregor growled.

"Warrior, the point is that Ripred has fought through all kinds of challenges throughout his life that he no longer understands the concept of his own mortality. Even if Ripred's intentions are noble and even if he executes the plan flawlessly, the chances of Regalia falling apart without a headstrong and charismatic monarch are very high," Apollo reasoned.

There was another short period of silence as they reflected on Apollo's words, before the bat went on to say, "And yes, there is the problem with democracy. We are unfamiliar with such a system, and from what I have heard it is a greatly flawed one. The rule of the majority is very dangerous, especially if the majority is uninformed and is not wise."

"That's precisely what I told Ripred!" Gregor said in exasperation.

"You are certainly not wrong in that respect," Apollo agreed, "A democracy is not based on a fixed set of moral beliefs and principles. It is based on the whim and the fancies of the people, and unless there are checks in the system to counter this problem, then our city will become a downright mess. If we rely on a Council, we are not moving forward at all because the Council currently does possess a lot of power. If we rely on the people, we open ourselves up to a whole plethora of problems."

"And then when these problems happen, Ripred will be forced to take over as an authoritarian leader," Gregor added, "So much for giving the power to the people to decide."

"Yes," Apollo nodded his head, "The problem that Luxa faces as a monarch are not exclusive to her alone. Any monarch in her position would face the same problems. And removing her from power would just result in someone else taking up the position of monarch and assuming the same problems. Democracy may be an appealing ideal, but it is fundamentally impractical in the Underland."

"Finally," Gregor breathed a sigh of relief, "Someone who understands the problem."

"That being said," Apollo countered, "The democratic system will be a breath of fresh air compared to our archaic methods under a monarch."

"You must be joking," Gregor sighed, "Now you think democracy is good?"

"I was merely being reasonable, Warrior," Apollo said drily, "I thought it would be a good foil to your rather one-sided perspective."

Gregor was about to respond with a witty remark, but for some reason he just couldn't. Not when he was feeling lower than he had felt in two years. So instead of trying to make himself feel better, he asked the one thing that truly mattered today.

"So… You think I should fight him to stop him?"

"Not really," Apollo replied, shaking his head, "Fighting him is something that I cannot be supportive of. You two would destroy half of the city before the battle would end. Both of your reputations would end up in tatters and innocents could be killed in the fight. And then there are the injuries to consider. In a battle to the death between the two of you, both of you could end up killing each other. Your best case scenario is for one of you to die while the other sustains heavy injuries. And I suspect the emotional trauma would be too great for the one that ends up living."

"Apollo, he has to be stopped," Gregor argued, "I cannot let him impose his own ideology on this city. And then… and then… you have no idea what he's done. He's destroyed me on the inside, Apollo. I can't even talk about it out loud anymore. I trusted him like a brother, and he…"

Gregor trailed off, unable to accept the truth that Ripred had betrayed him. It was not unforeseeable, but that didn't mean that Gregor didn't feel the pain of the lies that Ripred had spread to break him.

"I know," Apollo said softly, "I know that inside you are hurting. And I know that the battle between the two of you is inevitable. I know that by the end of today, Regalia would have lost a great hero. All I am saying is that you should fight for the right reasons, or you will never be able to handle the guilt should you kill him."

"There will be no guilt," Gregor replied darkly, "Not after what he's done."

"The guilt will not be immediate," Apollo told him, "But like the slow knife, it will inch closer to your heart day by day, until one fine morning you will wake up, consumed by the grief of killing him. That day might not be soon, but be prepared for that day."

Guilt... Ares. The two words had become synonymous over the last decade of Gregor's existence. Even Damien's death couldn't outstrip the crushing failure that Gregor experienced every day of his life because of Ares. He epitomised everything Gregor had failed to achieve- he had failed to fulfil the promises he had made when he bonded to Ares, he had failed to let Ares return home to his family, but most of all Gregor had failed to protect someone he loved. And that was his ultimate failure, because it showed that no matter how powerful he was with his rager abilities, the ones he cared about were still dying.

"Everyday I wake up with guilt anyway," Gregor sighed, his heart aching as he remembered holding on to Ares' claw as blood ebbed out of his chest, "I live with my sins everyday."

"Ares wouldn't have blamed you," Apollo said suddenly, almost as if he was reading Gregor's mind, "I know what you think, Warrior. You think it is your fault for leading him into death. But sometimes you have to remember the positive parts, like how you bonded with him to save his life."

 _Ares the flier, I bond to you._

 _Our life and death are one, we two._

 _In dark, in flame, in war, in strife,_

 _I save you as I save my life._

Gregor winced as the words echoed about in his head, inflicting the humiliation and guilt of failing to save Ares on his soul. They mocked him, haunted him, shamed him… Because Gregor knew he had failed to live up to his oath. He had failed to save Ares as he would save his own life. Gregor had continued living on and had left Ares in death.

" _I was not thinking of Sandwich's words. I was thinking of what was right._ "

Ares had said that during his last peaceful conversation with Gregor. Gregor remembered the anticipation he was feeling before the battle, the confidence that he could kill the Bane and still live, the weight of the pressure that was collapsing down on him. And Ares' soft-spoken words gave him just that little bit of encouragement before going into battle. Gregor hadn't even known that it would be the last time he could speak to Ares about what really mattered in life- to do what was right even though there would be others telling you to do other things. Sandwich may have dictated that Ares would save Gregor's life, but Ares' decision was all on his own.

And those words meant more to Gregor than they ever had before. Because even when the whole world seemed to suggest that what Ripred was doing was the right thing, he knew that he had to fight for what he believed in. Ripred may have had a similarly good intention, but he was doing it all wrong. And today, Gregor knew he was going to have to do what he did not because someone like Apollo urged him to, but because it was right.

Ripred's cause wasn't helped by the fact that he had taken Luxa away from Gregor as well. It wasn't helped by the fact that not only had he ruined Gregor's life, but he had actively plotted with the Fount and maybe even the rebel gnawers to bring Regalia down to its knees. Ripred may have been a pragmatist, but he wasn't doing it right. Not this time.

As the sight of Regalia came into view, Gregor said to Apollo, "Drop me off at the High Hall. I'm going to look for Luxa. We're done for the day."

"I thought you were going to fight Ripred?" Apollo questioned Gregor.

"Maybe not today," he replied, "Look, if I need your help I'll whistle three times. You can hear me, right?"

"My ears will be on high alert once again, Warrior," Apollo promised him, "You need not fear for your life. How's your leg, Warrior?"

Gregor looked down at his knee and grimaced. The cut from the arrow was quite deep, and although his bones had somehow remained fairly intact, the blood leaking from the wound was beginning to make him quite faint. Ripred would already have an advantage in the fight against Gregor. "I'm fine," he lied to Apollo.

In truth, Gregor knew that whistling for Apollo would be a last resort. He wasn't going to drag Apollo into a battle with Ripred, because he knew that Apollo's life would be in serious jeopardy if that was the case. He already had to endure the suffering of knowing that one flier's death was on him. He wasn't going to add Apollo to that list. Even if that meant lying to Apollo and telling him that he didn't need him, Gregor would do that. Apollo had displayed loyalty that Gregor had not witnessed in any individual in a long time, and he deserved to have that loyalty rewarded by Gregor protecting him from a fight with Ripred.

Apollo quickly flew past the battlements and headed straight for the High Hall as swiftly and as inconspicuously as possible. Gregor noticed a couple of people looking up and staring intensely at them, but those people were few and far between. Apollo was one of the most skilled fliers in the Underland, which meant that if he wanted to escape quickly and quietly, chances were he would.

He landed on the High Hall softly, before whispering, "Fly you high, Warrior."

"Fly you high, Apollo," Gregor replied as he sprang off Apollo's back and landed on the floor of the High Hall. With a nod, the big black bat then took off into the distance, leaving Gregor all alone on the High Hall.

He hurried over to Luxa's room still wearing his black armour, ready to burst through the doors and declare his findings to her. But as he sprinted into the royal wing, he found two guards standing in front of the doors which led into her room.

Normally, those guards would be willing to let him in and they often stood to one side to allow him entry into the room. But today they remained in their positions, a look of stern determination etched across their faces.

They were the last of the formidable imperial guards who protected the king and the queen. Most of them were killed by gregor or died during the battle of Regalia, leaving a couple of them still alive to protect Luxa. Gregor wasn't going to try and fight his way past them, not when he was injured, tired and especially not when he was going to have to fight the Lord of the Gnawers later.

"I'm here to see the queen," he told them wearily as he took off his mask and placed it on the floor to show that he meant no harm.

"No," one of them answered bluntly, his steely expression making Gregor's heart sink, "Under no circumstances will we let you in to see the queen."

"Look guys," Gregor pleaded, "I've had a long day and I really don't wanna fight you guys. I need to tell her Majesty something, and it's really important."

"No," the other guard replied churlishly, "her Majesty the queen has explicitly stated that of all people, YOU are not to bother her."

"It's not about me and her!" Gregor snapped, "Regalia is in danger, and I NEED to speak to her!"

"Not a chance, Warrior," the guards said in unison, "You will have to kill us to get to the queen." They both brandished out their weapons and assumed a fighting stance.

"I don't want to do this," Gregor sighed as he pulled out his dagger and his sword, "But you leave me with no choice."

"That's enough!" Luxa shouted as she flung the doors open, her eyes flaming with rage.

"Your Majesty…" one of the guards began.

"Stand down," Luxa ordered fiercely, "I will not have blood spilt outside my room. Let the Overlander enter."

The guards reluctantly stood to one side, shooting threatening glares at Gregor as he walked into Luxa's room. He sheathed his sword and dagger before looking up at her.

She closed the doors behind him and turned to face him. She eyed him from head to toe, taking in his ragged appearance. Only now did Gregor realise how much of a jumbled mess he looked. The tattered cape, the blood-stained gauntlet, the fierce scratches across his armour… The tousled hair like he had come straight out of bed, and of course the blood trickling down his leg armour from the wound on his knee. Looking ragged was an understatement.

Luxa seemed to ignore his appearance, though. "What do you want, Gregor?" she asked him, crossing her arms and staring at him coldly.

"Luxa, I never slept with Stellovet. I swear on my life," Gregor told her right away, "She's lying! Ripred told her to say that to break you and me up. He's trying to push you off the throne. Can't you see that?"

Luxa continued to look unimpressed. She looked at him emotionlessly for a few more seconds, before she said, "Do you have any other excuses?"

"WHAT?" Gregor yelled out, "Luxa, I'm telling you the truth! I'd never sleep with Stellovet and you know that!"

"I don't know what people are like anymore," Luxa said quietly, "Worst of all, I do not know you anymore."

"Luxa, I'm trying to protect you," Gregor said, his voice cracking with emotion, "Ripred's manipulated the whole thing. He's trying to destroy us to get to me, Luxa. He's trying to break us up so that I can vote you off the throne."

Luxa turned her head to one side sharply, and Gregor could have sworn her eyes were brimming with tears. "Looks like he succeeded," she said softly.

"Oh c'mon Luxa," Gregor said in frustration, "COME ON! I'm sorry if I hurt you… I'm sorry for whatever I did. I swear I'll make it up to you."

"Why do you care for me now?" Luxa asked, her face still turned away from Gregor's, "Why now?"

"Luxa, I can't do this," Gregor choked out as tears began to fall freely from his eyes, "I waited nine freaking years to feel alive again. I need you, Luxa. You're the one thing that… that… that keeps me going. And I know this sounds cheesy and I know this sounds weak, but-"

"ENOUGH!" Luxa yelled as she finally turned to face him. Her tear-stained face spoke of a whole myriad of emotions- anger, disappointment, frustration, love and… and… and pain. The pain was most obvious when he stared into those vibrant violet eyes. They whispered of the hurt she was suffering from and screamed of the injustice she was bearing. Gregor's heart almost completely split into two when he realised how broken she was on the inside.

"It was Ripred," he told her again, "I swear it was-"

"Leave me," she said firmly.

"But-" Gregor began.

"No," she cut him off, "Leave me now."

Defeated at last, Gregor bowed down as was custom, before walking towards the door. But just as he opened it and stepped out, he called out to her and said, "Don't forget I still love you."

He then closed the doors behind him and walked past the stone-faced guards, who reassumed their original positions. He picked his mask up and fit it back on his face as he left the royal wing.

Gregor felt his heart sinking lower and lower, mirroring the way his head seemed to droop lower with every heavy step he took. Luxa was broken, and even though Ripred was to blame, it was his fault too. His fault for not being more protective of her, his fault for not understanding her plight better and his fault for allowing Stellovet to slip past a chink in his armour.

As he strode out onto the High Hall, a voice from the darkness called out to him.

"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"

"Who will guard the guards themselves?" Gregor translated the phrase, familiar with its meaning. It was one of his father's favourite Latin quotes. Who would keep the ones who wielded power in check? Who would guard the guardians?

"I will," Ripred said as he languidly sauntered out from the shadows.

Gregor took off his mask and tossed it onto the ground. He then looked up and faced the old rat. "You have a lot of balls showing up here," he snarled at Ripred, "I know what you've done. You'll be charged with high treason and sentenced to death if you choose to go through this nicely."

"And what if I don't like the nice way?" Ripred asked innocently.

"Then I'll kill you myself," Gregor threatened him menacingly.

"So you figured it out," Ripred said with a yawn, "Someone clearly took a trip to the Fount. But I guessed that a while back. For one, that ridiculous cloak of yours is so torn it's almost non-existent."

"Luxa was everything to me," Gregor said, his voice shaking with fury as he spoke, "You know that better than anyone else. Do you know how it feels like to lose the love of your life? DO YOU? Do you know how it feels like to have her taken away from you?"

For a split second, Ripred's lackadaisical demeanour disappeared and his expression hardened. A flash of pure anger streaked across his eyes, followed by a look of excruciating pain. "I know how it feels," he replied darkly, "I lost everything I loved a long time ago, and I live with the pain everyday."

"That doesn't give you the right to inflict it on me," Gregor spat at him, "We did nothing to you."

"It's what you didn't do that mattered, Overlander," Ripred drawled, "You weren't willing to keep Luxa in check, so I had to do it. And if I had to break the two of you up to protect the Underland, I'd happily do it a thousand times over."

"I've always known you to be cruel and pragmatic," Gregor replied, "I didn't know you were a psychopath too."

"Took you a while," Ripred said with a chuckle, "That was Solovet's favourite word when describing me."

"Do you think this is a joke?" Gregor asked angrily, "You think that this is some prank that you can undo? Do you even know what you're starting? Democracy in the Underland? Political instability? Do you know what you have coming your way?"

"I actually happen to," Ripred answered with another arrogant chuckle, "Otherwise I wouldn't even have made this move in the first place. I know the risks and I'm willing to take them on. But you? I don't think you're actually fighting for Regalia. I think you've just taken things far too personally and that's why you want to kill me."

"Damn right," Gregor hissed, "You think you can go around doing whatever you think is right without considering the consequences. You know what that makes you?"

"An unsung hero?" Ripred suggested.

"It makes you a hypocrite," Gregor retorted, "You want to stop Luxa from exercising unchecked power but that's precisely what you've been doing- exercising unchecked power. Well, guess what? I'll show you what it's like to face consequences."

"I do recall you saying that you didn't want to fight me," Ripred responded mockingly, "It was something along the lines of 'Ripred, I don't want to fight you!' Does that sound familiar to you? Or am I getting too old and hard of hearing?"

"You're getting out of hand," Gregor told him, "And this is your last chance to surrender before things get dirty. So I'm only going to say this one more time, you son of a bitch. Surrender peacefully, or I'll kill you slowly and painfully."

"I'm sure I'll be killed painfully, but I'm not so sure about slowly," Ripred taunted Gregor again.

"I will do what is necessary this time," Gregor warned, picking his mask up and fitting it back on.

"Oh, so this is what our battle to the death looks like!" Ripred chortled with glee, "The two of us alone, with no one looking on. We'll kill each other in the darkness, and somehow somebody will find our bodies the next day. Not quite how I envisioned I would go, but… I guess this will suffice."

"Tell me one more thing, " Gregor said as his rager senses began their gradual ascent to its peak, "Why make ME pay? Why make ME suffer?"

"I do what is necessary," Ripred answered, his body twitching from the adrenaline rush which was probably surging through him right now, "I betrayed my own brethren to end the War of Time. I killed fellow gnawers just to achieve peace. I've done so much worse than breaking up your relationship, Overlander. I could do so much worse to you if I really wanted to. You should be relieved I only ended your infatuation with Luxa."

Gregor felt a hum in his head as he felt blood pounding his temple. It was that same feverish anger he had felt earlier when talking to Ripred- the same anger that had consumed him on numerous occasions over the last few months and had threatened to take full control over him. He had control over his rager sensations when fighting, but when he wasn't fighting… anger was enough to trigger his rager senses and turn him into a demonic killing machine with no control. He took in a deep breath and tried to picture Damien, but Damien's image failed to realise itself in his mind. It just refused to calm him down.

It was almost as if his mind had programmed itself to push away any distractions which might disturb him against Ripred.

Unable to control the raging sensation any longer, he released the pain in his gut and allowed it to flow throughout his body, devouring all his rational and cold-blooded senses, turning him into the very embodiment of fury.

He looked up at Ripred and his vision instantly splintered, displaying Ripred's weaknesses. His hind leg, an artery running down the left side of his neck, the underbelly… the images swarmed Gregor's mind, yet he slowly sorted them out as he formulated a battle plan in his head. A quick glance at Ripred would also reveal that the old rat was going through an almost identical experience. Ripred's eyes became slightly misty and his muscles began to bulge and tense up.

This was it. This was a battle between the ragers.

"I trusted you," he said to Ripred, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice, "And you betrayed that trust."

"You don't understand it now," Ripred replied coldly, "You don't understand that sometimes, people have to be hurt in order for the good of everybody else. But one day, when I'm dead and long gone, maybe you'll be in the same situation as I was. And when that time comes, I hope you know how it feels to have to betray that trust placed in you."

"I will never be like you," Gregor snarled as he drew out his sword and his dagger.

"That's the problem," Ripred replied as he crouched down, ready to burst into a sprint.

For what felt like an eternity, they stared at each other, hoping desperately for an alternative, hoping desperately for the other to back down. Ripred bared his teeth into a snarl while Gregor took in a deep breath. Apollo's words chimed in at this moment like a death knell.

" _I know that by the end of today, Regalia would have lost a great hero._ "

"You still have a chance to end this peacefully," Gregor offered.

"I'm right where I want to be," Ripred replied.

Gregor wished to God he could pull out of the fight there and then, but it was far too late. The both of them on either side of the High Hall, fighting for different ideologies and different people. At the end of the day, Regalia only had space for one rager. Today was the day which decided who that rager was.

With a spine-chilling battle cry, the both of them charged straight at each other.

* * *

 **Hopefully this chapter has established Gregor as someone much more reasonable. I understand that the majority of you guys would support Ripred over him because you believe in the ideals of democracy/you believe that Ripred needs to be in control to bring Regalia forward, but I hope that you guys understand that Gregor is similarly justified as well. This chapter was meant to properly illustrate the ideological conflict between both sides. Essentially, I've been trying to create political themes for this story, which has been a challenging task so far to say the least. Again, I hope that worked out. Anyway, I'm not for #teamGregor, but surely some of you believe he isn't in the wrong, right?**

 **Looking forward to hearing your comments and votes on this fight. I'll be spending a lot of time over the next week developing the next chapter, which is the battle between the two of them. That one needs some real work!**

 **Favourites/follows are encouraged. Please review as well! I'm going through a really difficult and depressing time at the moment and the only thing keeping me going is this story and the people who read it.**

 **Question: No question today. Go to my profile page and choose from the poll whether you are on Gregor's or Ripred's side. If you really are unwilling to create a fanfiction account, then just send me a review telling me which side you're on. I wanna get a good understanding of the demographic of supporters for each side.**

 **P.S. As it stands Ripred has 50% of the vote, with Gregor having 25% and another 25% of youy guys being undecided. Please go and take the vote!**


	15. Chapter 15: Gregor vs Ripred

**HELLO EVERYONE! I hope you are as excited for this chapter as I was when I was writing it. But before we get to it, my thanks goes out to the following readers who reviewed over the past 2 weeks, which have been an extremely difficult and trying time for me: A happy reader, Dragons boy, FierceDeity24, Thiazzie, HumanicHedgeHog, Jallex, Random, RobbWells(I remember you! You're Bobb Wells, right? I'm so glad to hear from you again), Clytuis, DeathDrayanD, pyro159 and Najeh202.**

 **Before I go on, I'd like to take this opportunity to express my condolences to those who have been affected by recent shootings in Orlando over the last week. First there was the passing of Christina Grimmie, and then came the mass murder in Pulse which claimed fifty lives. These are horrific tragedies, and if anyone reading this has been personally affected by these incidents, I hope you take comfort in knowing that we are all behind you.**

 **This chapter is the longest and possibly the most exhausting chapter I have ever written. But the epic showdown between Gregor and Ripred deserves nothing less than that.** **There may be some unrealistic elements occasionally- I've taken some liberties with their abilities as ragers, and I've counted on their abilities and anger to drown out their pain. But apart from that, this is the most gritty, desperate and emotional fight I've written in a long time.** **Please read my remarks at the end of the chapter for a little bit more details about the fight. But only read that after you've finished reading the entire chapter.**

 **And so ladies and gentlemen, I present to you chapter 15, the unprecedented battle between the son of the sun and the rat killed by claw, since resurrected.**

 **It is with a great deal of excitement that I present to you:**

 **Gregor vs Ripred.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Gregor vs Ripred**

Gregor swung his sword at Ripred's left, but the rat blocked the strike with a lightning-fast reflex. He then countered with a vicious swipe of his own at Gregor's left, but Gregor responded with an equal amount of strength and speed, blocking the claws from reaching his left side.

Ripred may have been old, but he was certainly far from being out of the game.

For a few seconds, they strained against each other, trying to get the upper hand. As Gregor pushed hard against Ripred, he stared into the rat's eyes and found himself staring at a wave of cold ruthlessness. In that moment, Gregor knew Ripred wasn't going to hold back. The old rat was fighting for his life and would be prepared to do whatever was necessary to stay alive. This was the Ripred he was frightened of fighting- savage, merciless and cruel.

As time wore on, Gregor began to gain the upper hand, pushing harder against Ripred. Realising he was outmatched in terms of strength, Ripred disengaged with Gregor's weapons and pounced backwards. He then began to circle Gregor, assessing him from head to toe.

Gregor wasn't going to give Ripred the luxury of analysing his weaknesses. He burst forward and feinted at Ripred's right shoulder with his dagger while jabbing at Ripred's left cheek with his sword.

The old rat read Gregor's intentions and parried both attacks aside, before lunging forward at Gregor's chest. Gregor sprang backwards, slashing his sword to ward Ripred off. The old rat halted his lunge halfway, backing off slightly and returning back to circling Gregor.

Gregor raced forward yet again, switching up his actions this time. He made a double feint with his sword, first thrusting at Ripred's left eye, then at Ripred's left shoulder, before finally making a move for Ripred's artery on his neck.

Somehow, the rat spotted Gregor's intentions from a mile away again and blocked the final thrust headed for his artery. Gregor then seized the opportunity to catch Ripred off guard and jabbed his dagger at Ripred's eye.

But with an unearthly reflex movement, Ripred brought his right paw up and blocked the attack with a resounding clang.

Gregor stared at the scene in bewilderment.

"That was… unexpected," Ripred admitted himself, before lashing out at Gregor with his right paw. Gregor swung his sword wildly and batted the attack aside, before retreating quickly to get out of Ripred's range. Ripred was proving to be much more difficult to fight than Gregor imagined.

The old rat suddenly rushed forward and launched a flurry of swipes and slashes with his claws. Gregor triggered his rager senses, swinging his sword and dagger to knock aside the numerous attacks being thrown in his direction. One claw broke past his usually impenetrable defence, but luckily for him it only scraped the edge of his shoulder armour.

Gregor's hands were now a blur, as Ripred's attacks increased in speed and conviction. Gregor couldn't even see what he was blocking. The old rat gnashed his teeth in frustration as he tried to launch multiple attacks at Gregor's limbs, but Gregor was just about able to ward off all the swipes and slashes. He then took a flip backwards to get out of range. That half a minute of defending against Ripred's attacks already made him feel breathless and exhausted.

"Is that… the best… you have to offer?" Ripred goaded Gregor, panting heavily himself. The physical exertion of the fight played visibly on his strained expression, but his tone suggested that he was far from done with Gregor.

Gregor's anger intensified once more, and with a roar of fury he charged straight at Ripred. The rat responded by throwing himself forward, opening his jaws wide to clamp down on Gregor. But Gregor had long expected that leap to come from Ripred. He ducked under Ripred's leap with a roll, slashing upwards as Ripred's body soared above him.

Yet somehow, Ripred miraculously blocked Gregor's slash with his left claw.

The rat crashed to the ground unceremoniously and skidded across the floor of the High Hall, but he was still relatively unharmed. He stumbled to his feet and righted himself to face Gregor once more.

Gregor got back up onto his feet and readied himself for a charge at Ripred for the umpteenth time. But the moment he took a step forward, he knew something was wrong. A searing pain shot up his right leg, causing him to grimace underneath the mask. The injury he had sustained when fighting in the Fount earlier was starting to hinder his movement and his speed.

But he couldn't show any of this to Ripred, and neither could he think it. As long as he exposed a vulnerability or weakness to Ripred, the rat would exploit that weakness until it came back to punish Gregor.

He was going to have to man up and fight the pain back. If Ripred even got a whiff of Gregor feeling pain in his right knee, then the battle would be firmly in Ripred's control. Breathing heavily, he continued to advance towards Ripred, but this time he took slower and more deliberate steps.

If Ripred noticed any change in Gregor's physicality, he showed no signs of it. He hurled himself forward and threw a right claw at Gregor's head, which Gregor blocked. His left claw then headed straight for Gregor's groin, which Gregor knocked aside with his dagger. Then a right claw was headed straight for Gregor's right shoulder, forcing Gregor to bring up his dagger to parry the attack. Ripred's left claw was now being swung at Gregor's legs, which made him spring up into the air to avoid the attack. Man, Ripred was not slowing down and Gregor was slowly but surely being pushed onto the back foot.

Gregor took a couple more steps back to give himself a breather, but Ripred was not letting him rest. The rat rushed forward with an inhuman burst of speed while slashing at Gregor's chest with a couple of savage swipes.

Again, Gregor was able to bring his blade and dagger up to deflect the attacks aside. But Ripred caught him off guard by throwing himself at Gregor's chest headfirst. The rat's head connected with Gregor's chest, sending Gregor crashing to the ground. Ripred then heaved more than five hundred pounds of fat and muscle onto Gregor as he pinned him to the ground. Ripred's claws locked Gregor's wrists in position, preventing Gregor from using his blade and dagger.

Ripred then looked triumphantly down on Gregor.

Swearing under his breath, Gregor quickly improvised by using his legs. He slammed both feet into Ripred's belly with as much force as he could possibly muster, sending the old rat stumbling off him.

But before Gregor could pick his sword and dagger up, Ripred was throwing himself at Gregor again. This time, he opened his mouth and revealed his hideous, razor-sharp teeth while unfurling his claws completely.

It was a monstrous and frightening sight to take in.

Swallowing back his fear and panic, Gregor swung his right fist wildly. To his surprise, his right gauntlet landed on Ripred's cheek and sent the rat flying to one side, but not before one of Ripred's trailing claws left a long scratch mark against Gregor's chest plate.

Gregor stumbled back from the shock of the blow Ripred had landed, but he quickly regained his composure and picked his weapons up. Ripred, meanwhile, lay sprawled across the floor looking partially dazed. Gregor took this opportunity to inhale gulps of air as if he was downing gallons of water. Even the fight at the Fount was not as mentally and physically taxing as this.

Ripred struggled to his feet with a groan, shaking his head violently as he stretched slightly. Gregor almost grinned when he saw blood staining the grey fur on Ripred's left cheek. The gauntlets could leave a devastating and permanent mark if he could get enough momentum behind the punch, even for a veteran fighter like Ripred.

Ripred seemed self-conscious of the blood trickling down his face. He brought his left paw up to feel his wounds, before looking down at the blood which now stained his paw. An air of confusion seemed to float by as Ripred seemed genuinely perplexed by the wound Gregor caused. When he finally accepted that Gregor had drawn first blood, he looked up at Gregor and smiled bitterly. "Blood had to be spilled eventually," he said with a grin devoid of emotion or humour.

Gregor advanced forward menacingly. Ripred had the advantage when attacking Gregor, so he was going to have to attack Ripred relentlessly to prevent the old rat from devising a plan to injure him through a complicated series of swipes and slashes. Ripred was not at his physical peak, but he was arguably a smarter fighter than Gregor. Gregor was going to have to play to his physical strengths. With luck, he might even tire Ripred out so as to land the killing blow.

If Ripred seemed exhausted, he showed no signs of it. He jogged forward to build up momentum, before accelerating towards Gregor.

This time, Gregor made the first move. He stabbed his sword at Ripred's snout, forcing the rat to bring up both sets of claws to block the strike. Gregor capitalised on Ripred having to use both claws by jabbing his dagger at Ripred's side. Once more, Ripred's right claw flew out to parry the strike.

But Ripred was already slightly disoriented. And in battles with ragers where the margins between life and death were so fine, being disoriented could be fatal.

With Ripred having to use his right claw to defend against Gregor's dagger, Gregor feinted towards Ripred's neck before suddenly switching targets to Ripred's left shoulder. The rat flailed his left paw about in alarm, but was unable to stop Gregor's blade from piercing the flesh on his left shoulder. Gregor felt a surge of satisfaction course through his veins as he felt the tip of his blade going right through the flesh of Ripred.

With a hiss of pain, Ripred jerked back violently and sprang out of range. Blood soaked the grey fur on his left shoulder and some drops of blood even stained the floor of the High Hall as he retreated away from Gregor.

The blood on Gregor's blade seemed to glimmer radiantly, almost as if it tried to signify that the blood which was spilt was unique. Gregor almost ended up grinning at the sight, before replacing the half-grin with a frown. Why did the sight of blood make him smile?

For a brief second, he wondered why he was doing this. Why was he sacrificing his own life to bring down Ripred? Was it really necessary? Was Regalia really worth both his life and Ripred's life?

But these questions were quickly silenced by his rage, which devoured any faint doubts that straggled on in Gregor's head.

He looked up at Ripred, who was panting pretty heavily. The wound on his shoulder stood out even more when contrasted with the harsh grey of Ripred's fur. Ripred limped forward slightly, seemingly shaken from the injury he sustained. But then he straightened his back, and suddenly the injury seemed like nothing more than a minor nuisance for him. The old rat launched yet another sprint heading straight for Gregor.

Gregor brought both his sword and dagger up as he parried at least half a dozen slashes from Ripred in two seconds. The old rat was pulling off feint after feint, causing Gregor to panic and swing both his sword and dagger about wildly to handle the sheer intensity of Ripred's attacks. He slowly but surely took step after step back, swiping Ripred's attacks aside.

Gregor soon found himself with his back literally against the wall. Ripred then increased the aggressiveness of his attacks, feinting for Gregor's left hip before moving in for his neck, while the other paw feinted at his right shoulder before heading for his hip. Gregor blocked both strikes, but Ripred was far from done. He swiped straight at Gregor's chest, pressuring Gregor into throwing both his sword and dagger up in order to counter the pure power of the swipe.

Big mistake.

Ripred brought his left paw up and slammed his claws into Gregor's chest, leaving Gregor winded. He slumped to the floor, gasping desperately for air as he felt his ribs flex claws may not have penetrated his armour, but the full impact of the blow was too much for Gregor. Gregor then swung his sword with violent speed, catching Ripred by surprise and cutting the rat's lower lip. With a rare howl of pain, Ripred bounded back to nurse his injury as Gregor struggled to his feet.

Gregor had barely recovered his breath before Ripred launched another ferocious series of strikes. This time, Gregor used his sword alone, spinning it with extreme speed to parry any attacks directed at him. Initially, Ripred seemed frustrated as the spinning sword thwarted any kind of attack.

And then he lunged for Gregor's legs.

Gregor tried to bend down and block the attack, but it was far too late. Somehow, as if the devil's hand was guiding Ripred's paw, his claws managed to slip through the chink of Gregor's knee armour…

And sliced an even larger cut on Gregor's right knee.

Screaming in agony, Gregor threw himself to one side as the pain gripped his entire right leg. He staggered to one side, using one of the pillars in the High Hall to prop himself up.

Ripred spared him no mercy. The old rat rushed straight at Gregor and launched another series of swipes and slashes, forcing Gregor to endure the pain and fight him. Gregor was now relying purely on his rager senses. His arms were no longer in control. All he could see was yet another splintered perspective of Ripred, revealing the rat's numerous weaknesses.

But despite entrusting all control to his rager side, Ripred was far too experienced with his own rager capabilities. He danced out of the way pounce in a while, before launching a counter-attack which often came close to inflicting another injury on Gregor.

With the pain in his right knee beginning to escalate sharply, Gregor gritted his teeth together and swung the hilt of his dagger instead of trying to block a strike from Ripred. The hilt of the dagger struck Ripred's snout, sending the old rat reeling back from the shock and the pain of the strike.

Gregor then looked down to inspect his right knee. A couple of criss-crossing injuries now made its mark on his knee, an eerie parallel to the criss-crossing scars which marked Ripred's face. Warm blood trickled down his right leg as it oozed out of his injury.

"I could smell the blood there earlier," Ripred called out to Gregor, "Did you really think I wouldn't know your little weaknesses?"

The old rat's snout was bleeding quite heavily from the blow to his nose, and even Gregor felt his stomach flip at the sight. "You don't look too good either!" he gibed back.

Ripred didn't seem close to disconcerted or perturbed by the fact that he was bleeding at all. Instead, he grinned and replied, "Looks like we're both going to die today then."

Gregor bit down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming as he pushed the pain in his right knee to the back of his head again. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted, even if he was badly wounded and bleeding profusely.

Both of them charged at each other again. Sparks literally flew all over the place as Ripred's claws connected with the metal of Gregor's weapons. They were now locked in an even battle, as they took turns to attack and defend against each other.

Ripred suddenly increased the pace of the battle by launching a lightning-fast double feint, leaving an opening under his right forelimb. Both ragers traded blows, with Ripred managing to slice Gregor's skin through a small chink in his shoulder armour, while Gregor's sword cut through the supple flesh near Ripred's heart.

Growling in pain, the both of them retreated back to take a quick break. Of the two of them Ripred had sustained more injuries, but that was hardly an indicator of how the battle had gone so far. Gregor had been in many lopsided battles, even lopsided battles where he was the losing party, but he had never fought in a battle which was so evenly-matched. Even when fighting Conrad, it was clear that he had the advantage and that Conrad was surviving only because Gregor was exhausted.

But this fight with Ripred? While he may be stronger than Ripred, the rat was still a brilliant strategist in battle and was far more experienced than Gregor was. Ripred was hurting Gregor, and he was hurting Gregor badly.

And then, as if the old rat had become disinterested, he turned his back on Gregor and ran towards the edge of the High Hall. Perplexed by his actions, Gregor suppressed his urge to scream in pain as he chased after Ripred.

Ripred leapt off the edge of the High Hall and onto the roof of a tower nearby. He then spun around and shot Gregor a devilish grin.

"Stop in the name of her Majesty the queen!" a voice called out behind him.

Gregor turned away from Ripred and found three soldiers emerging from the royal wing of the palace. Damn it, fighting with Ripred had attracted far too much attention. Gregor quickly weighed his two alternatives- the first being to surrender to these guards, and the second being to chase Ripred around the rooftops.

As fearful as he was of heights, Gregor was not going to give in meekly to the guards.

With his heart pounding against his chest like a thunderous drumbeat, Gregor choked down his fear of heights and charged towards the edge of the High Hall. Ignoring the yelling from the guards behind him, he threw himself off the edge of the High Hall and landed on the roof of the tower Ripred was standing on.

But the old rat clearly didn't intend to fight Gregor on this roof. He leapt off the roof onto another, and then another. Sighing aloud to himself, Gregor ignored the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach as he leapt off from roof to roof in pursuit of Ripred.

Immediately, he knew he was on enemy turf. Ripred almost glided across the towers of Regalia, seemingly comfortable moving across different roofs at a time. As Gregor tried to keep up the pace, he noticed his heart starting to crash against his chest harder and harder, on the verge of punching its way out of his ribcage and out into the billowing winds that now swirled around him. They weren't really distracting, but it added to the fear-inducing effect of jumping from roof to roof.

Gregor almost slipped off on occasion when his feet failed to adjust to the slippery and mouldy roof tiles, but his rager capabilities somehow aided him in keeping his balance. Gregor could have fallen off any moment and made a bloody mess of himself landing headfirst on the ground, but it seemed as if he had an angel supporting him each and every time his foot slid across a clump of damaged tiles.

Not that his rager senses were his angel.

The old rat finally began to slow down, a clear indication that even he was growing tired. Spurred on by that belief, Gregor sprang from roof to roof with more vigour in a bid to catch up with him.

Suddenly, Ripred halted his wild escapade across the roofs of Regalia and stood on a very familiar-looking roof. Gregor struggled to fish out the memory of that roof, but when he did he gasped out loud.

It was the same Gothic roof he had fought Conrad on.

Breathing in deeply to settle his nerves, he finally landed on the roof with another terrifying leap across the roofs. By the time Gregor landed, cold sweat drenched his entire body like a shower and he could feel his muscles still as tight and tense as ever. He could feel a slight throb on his right knee, but he allowed his fear of heights to hold back the feeling of pain. He would rather feel fear than feel pain right now.

"That's enough, Ripred," he wheezed out, "You've lost. We can still end this here before anyone dies."

Ripred grinned maliciously and responded, "Not a chance."

He then gingerly took one step back, and then another, and then another. Gregor, gripping his sword and dagger tighter than ever, instantly strode forward to keep up.

Yet another tactical mistake.

His knee suddenly buckled underneath him as numerous tiles began to break loose and slide off the roof. With a yelp of surprise, Gregor tripped over and landed on the roof. Its slanted shape resulted in him beginning to slide down on his back, causing him to scream in fright as the sharp descent invoked the feeling of fear, which gripped his body in a cold embrace. Gregor's mind was a frenetic mess as he tried to figure out what to do.

But just before he was about to slip off the roof, Gregor pulled out his dagger and slammed it into whatever was left of the roof, giving him a lifeline in what was literally the very last second. He hung off his dagger for a few moments, suspended in the air as his feet dangled about over the edge.

The old rat had tactically outwitted him again. Knowing Ripred, he probably planned the fight on the roofs all along to play to his strengths and Gregor's weaknesses. He probably knew that the tiles were damaged. He probably knew that Gregor would slip on them and panic.

Damn, he was still way out of Ripred's league.

As he thrashed about in the air, his fear of heights took control of him again and he found himself paralysed in that spot. A quick glance upward showed Ripred slowly but carefully sauntering down the roof to meet him. So this was how it ended- this was how he met his death. Dangling over the edge while hanging on for dear life, leaving Ripred to find a dozen creative ways to end his misery. Meanwhile, all Gregor would be able to do was… nothing. He was effectively at Ripred's mercy.

NO.

He had to confront his fear.

Forcing himself to swallow down the sheer fright and with sheer iron resolve, he mobilised his limbs and activated whatever remaining strength he had left in his muscles.

And he did a one-arm pull-up.

He somehow did a one-arm pull-up.

He hauled himself back onto the roof and stood up on both feet triumphantly to face Ripred one more. The old rat, for once, genuinely looked impressed. "You've got grit, Overlander, I'll give you that," he remarked, "But grit doesn't get you far."

"It'll get me far enough," Gregor snarled, before warily making his way up the slope of the roof. Ripred had the advantage of the higher ground, but against Gregor it wouldn't count for much.

With a menacing yell of fury, he lashed out by swinging his sword at Ripred's head while thrusting his dagger at Ripred's neck. Ripred barely reacted in time to block both strikes, but it mattered little since momentum was already with Gregor. He then feinted lower for Ripred's leg with his sword, before changing direction mid-thrust and going for Ripred's head.

Ripred again found enough speed to deflect the strike, but it wasn't enough. The tip of the blade sailed past is eye but grazed the top of his head, nearly invoking a scream of anguish from the rat. Gregor then took advantage of the minor distraction to jab at Ripred's right side with his dagger.

Yet again, Ripred was just about able to deflect the strike, but it grazed his right forelimb. Ripred bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from unleashing a scream while he retreated up the roof, clearly outmatched for now.

Gregor made his way up the roof until he was on equal grounds as Ripred.

Then he made his move.

Ducking under a desperate swipe from Ripred, he stabbed his blade straight at Ripred's chest, forcing the rat to swat his blade aside. Gregor then followed up by a couple of feints with his dagger, before swinging his right sword at Ripred out of the blue.

It nearly caught Ripred by surprise, but the rat was able to bring up a left paw to block the strike. Gregor then closed the gap between the two of them and drove his knee into Ripred's jaw. His knee slammed into Ripred's chin with a resounding crack, while the rat himself stumbled backwards and nearly slid off the roof in the process.

Gregor, buoyed by his success against Ripred, immediately moved forward to close out the victory. He unleashed a deadly combination of swipes, slashes and thrusts with his dagger and sword, moving so fast he couldn't even see his movements properly. He could catch a glimpse of a flash from his dagger, and hear the sound of sword and claw clashing together, but he couldn't tell what on earth he was doing.

Ripred on his part seemed to be keeping up. The rat's claws moved about with a speed which was absolutely blinding to the naked eye. But even he couldn't hold back against the barrage of attacks coming from Gregor. He had completely surrendered to his rager sensation, allowing it to launch devastating attack after devastating attack.

The rat's claws flew all over the place in an attempt to mitigate Gregor's attacks, and he even used his teeth on occasion to counter some of Gregor's strikes. The fighting was so intense that sweat was gathering over his brow and falling in front of his eyes like a waterfall. Every emotion that he had felt over the last twenty-four hours- disgust, hope, hatred, frustration, anger, sadness, disappointment, fear… They all fueled his soul as he bellowed out a battle cry and increased the speed of his attacks.

This was Ripred's last stand. This was where he would fall. This was where Gregor would achieve retribution for every last filthy act of injustice that Ripred had inflicted on him.

So Gregor slashed and swung his sword with every ounce of frustration he had left.

And he swung.

And he slashed.

And he swung.

And he slashed.

When he was satisfied that he had sufficiently wounded Ripred, he backed off slightly and took a deep breath to pacify the myriad of emotions that had controlled him.

But to his utter shock, the rat seemed relatively unharmed from that series of attacks. If anything, he looked more relaxed and calm.

Gregor wanted to howl in fury. He wanted to succumb to the pounding anger which was tempting him, coaxing him into surrendering complete control to his rager side. It was taking all of his willpower to keep himself balanced. Whatever he threw at Ripred never seemed to be enough. The old rat was just too invincible.

Desperate to find a chink in Ripred's proverbial armour, Gregor scanned his entire body for vulnerabilities. But he soon realised it wasn't the weaknesses that were the issue. Ripred had laid them bare for all to see, but it hardly mattered. As long as Gregor couldn't get the tip of his sword past Ripred's claws or teeth, all those weaknesses amounted to nothing.

Ripred dusted himself sardonically to taunt Gregor, before looking up innocently.

At the precise moment, Gregor's eyes settled on a glass panel of the Council hall. The massive glass panel was grimy and layered in dirt from decades of collecting dust and filth. Gregor ran some estimations through his mind. The glass panel probably lead into the main building of the Council hall, whose roof they were currently standing on. The glass panel was situated behind the stage, so he could definitely use that as an opportunity to bring the fight somewhere else. Judging from their positioning, Gregor suspected that they were on the roof of the left wing of the Council hall, meaning that if he could get Ripred through that panel and into…

Gregor didn't have much more time to work out the calculations. The Gothic roof stretched on for yards across, and the only way to get him back on level ground would be through that glass panel. That was the only way he was going to be able to gain an upper hand against Ripred. Up here, where Ripred had the tactical advantage, Gregor was not going to break him down.

Gregor was going to have to throw up some tactics of his own.

Ripred's back was facing the glass panel, so the plan would be to slowly push him in that direction. Taking in a deep breath, he walked forward and launched another furious attack. Ripred tried to catch him off-guard with a swift counter-attack, but Gregor turned his claws away with his dagger and swiped with his sword, making Ripred back off a few steps.

He then lunged at Ripred's limbs, forcing the old rat to take another couple of steps back. Gregor noticed a loose tile where he was standing, and decided to use it to his advantage for once. He kicked out at the tile and sent it flying like a projectile at Ripred, forcing the rat to duck underneath the quasi-missile. Gregor then swung his blade wildly, again forcing Ripred to backpedal.

Ripred was now just a couple of steps away from where Gregor wanted him to be. And this was what troubled Gregor the most- shouldn't Ripred have noticed by now that Gregor was trying to force him back?

Gregor swung his weapon a couple more times, attacks which Ripred parried aside. Gregor then sprang a surprise by thrusting his dagger forward, which shocked Ripred into retreating two steps back.

That was the trigger for Gregor.

 _Now._

Gregor feinted with his blade and his dagger at the same time, leaving Ripred to open himself up by trying to block the attacks. With a bellow of rage, Gregor then leapt into the air and fired a flying kick at Ripred's throat. The impact of the kick sent the rat flying off the roof.

And crashing through the glass panel.

The glass panel broke into a thousand little fragments as Ripred's body flew right through, disappearing into the darkness of the Council hall.

Breathing heavily, Gregor almost unleashed a triumphant howl of relief. But then a cynical side of himself reminded him that Ripred wasn't truly down until he was dead. Restraining his celebrations for later, he threw himself through the hole which was once the glass panel to find Ripred's body.

Gregor landed with a heavy thud on the stage of the Council hall, which was on an elevated position in the hall. His right knee once again nearly collapsed from the amount of damage it had endured, but he managed to keep himself upright. Stumbling forward slightly, he allowed himself a few seconds to gain a better view of his surroundings.

Before realising he was in complete darkness.

He instinctively clicked his tongue to take in his surroundings. He could see what was just around him- some chairs where the Council normally took their seats, the stage he was standing on, the basic outline of the Council hall… While Gregor was glad he could still see in this darkness, he immediately regretted not practising his echolocation.

To put things nicely, it had become patchy and disoriented. Gregor could barely make out the shapes of objects around him. As he wandered forward, his boot stepped on something slippery and he nearly fell over unceremoniously. Sheathing his dagger, he leaned down and reached out towards the substance he had slipped on.

After taking off his left gauntlet, he felt the substance's texture. Warm, sticky… That meant blood.

He was touching Ripred's blood.

At first, he thought that the rat was dead and the battle was over. But when he clicked his tongue one more time, he couldn't find any shape resembling that of a rat on the stage. Ripred was injured, but he was definitely still alive and physically intact.

And now he was hiding amongst the shadows watching Gregor.

With a lump beginning to grow in his throat, Gregor continued to click his tongue, gaining a better "view" of his surroundings. He could see the chairs and benches where the audience and some of the high-ranking members normally sat, but they all appeared in a dim and hazy manner. Every single thing around him was obscured by jagged vision.

Gregor crept as quietly as possible around the Council hall. He stretched out his sword so that it would be the first point of contact with Ripred if they bumped into each other. But knowing Ripred, the rat would sneak up on him from behind.

As the air in the hall seemed to grow oppressive and hair-raising, more cold sweat rolled down Gregor's face. Every single step he took was a mocking laugh from the darkness, taunting him with his fear of the unknown, goading him for being so vulnerable in the sinister darkness. The shadows seemed to rear back and laugh every time he stepped near them, and the silhouette of Ripred always appeared to be hovering over them. The chilling fear that engulfed Gregor made his spine tingle and his fingers tremble.

Then an idea struck him. He slowly and cautiously made his way over to the corner of the Council hall, where the flames were usually lit to light up the entire hall. Quickly sheathing his sword, he grabbed a couple of matchsticks and lit them up, his tongue still clicking to ensure that Ripred wasn't anywhere near enough to sneak up on him. As the radiant glow of the fire lit the hope in his heart up again and dispelled his fear, he happily ignited the candles in the corner of the hall, and they began to catch each other's flames, creating a faint but clear glow of flame to light up his surroundings.

He yanked out his sword and spun around, reverting to using his eyes to scan his environment. Nothing seemed to fidget or move about in his vicinity. There was quite literally no threat coming his way. He could hear a couple of agitated voices coming from outside the Council hall, which probably meant they were going to have company soon.

But there was still no sign of Ripred.

Suddenly, a small package flew out from the side and landed in front of his feet. Vibrant red and pale green smoke rose ominously from the package, wafting through the air and into his nostrils, whilst simultaneously shielding his vision in front of him. The smell from the smoke wasn't putrid or rancid, but seemed almost… enchanting. Gregor felt he was being drawn into the smoke rather than the smoke being drawn into him.

Amidst his clouded vision, he spotted Ripred trotting out behind a bench, his usual aura of arrogance floating about him. So much for trying to block Gregor's vision. He had Ripred right in front of him, which was exactly where he wanted the rat to be.

"Your plan is to kill me with smoke?" Gregor scoffed.

"That's not your ordinary smoke," Ripred said with a smile, a hint of morbid satisfaction playing on the edges of his lips, "It's called the Murk."

Gregor began to gag and cough violently from the smoke. He doubled over when his gut was consumed by excruciating pain out of nowhere. His eyes began to tear as everything in front of him became a blur. He stumbled to his feet and tried to swing his sword, but he ended up doubling over in pain again.

His coughing intensified and Gregor felt as if his throat was torn to shreds. It was as if it had become sandpaper- coarse, rough and unpleasant. He tried to lift up his blade, but his muscles had become far too fatigued for him to even stand up straight. Dropping to his knees, he tried to let out a frustrated scream of despair, but even his voice was failing him now. A muffled croak escaped his lips, but that was as loud as it got.

His lungs felt like they were being compressed and were on the verge of exploding. Desperate for air, he throw his mask off and tried to inhale as much oxygen as possible. But none seemed to enter his lungs. If anything, the open air seemed to cut off his air supply even more with every breath he made.

He dropped his sword and now groped about wildly for anything that might help him. But he literally found himself grasping at thin air as his lungs filled to the point where he felt they were going to burst into a messy fountain of blood.

Gregor now fell back on the floor and began to writhe about in agony. His stomach seemed to churn about more vigorously than ever, and soon he choked out liquid from his mouth. Through the small slits of his eyes he could see what he had coughed out.

Blood.

Another cough escaped his lips again, and blood splattered against the floor. "It's from the jungle," Ripred's voice somehow filtered through his chaotic mind despite sounding distant and faraway, "It can kill with its hallucinations, which should be particularly vivid for you."

 _Gregor felt the ground underneath his feet give way and let out a shrill scream of fright. His heart began to palpitate violently as he felt himself falling through the air down a never-ending pit…_

"We train our soldiers to resist it," Ripred's voice entered his mind again, "But you haven't tried it out, have you? How do you find it so far?"

 _Gregor unleashed another muffled scream as he began to pick up speed while falling. Suddenly, he hit the ground and his heart produced a strong jolt._

The falling had stopped. The falling had stopped. The falling had stopped.

 _Then the Bane's face emerged from the shadows, invoking yet another muted scream. The Bane pulled Ares' dead body out from the shadows, causing Gregor's heart to throb painfully. It ached so bad to see this- to see Ares' dead body in the claws of the Bane._

 _He tried to get up, but he couldn't. He couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't even lift a finger._

 _Twirltongue now sauntered out, dragging Luxa's dead body. His heart_ let _loose a gut-wrenching howl of anguish as he saw her mutilated body, covered from head to toe by brutal scratches that left a mark in his heart just as much as it left a mark on her body._

 _Gorger was the next to come out, his teeth clamping down on Apollo's head. Apollo's decapitated body fell from above and landed next to Gregor, causing him to wince from having to look at his friend's corpse._

 _Flavius now entered the fray, yanking Calvin's body out into the open. The boy's eyes were blank and his face seemed to be etched with horror. His throat had been_ slit, _and even know blood seemed to flow out agonisingly slowly, torturing him by having to see the blood of the boy who was the closest Gregor had_ for _a brother._

 _Then the most grievous pain of all stabbed him right in the middle of his heart. The bodies of his family hung in front of him with nooses wrapped_ about _their necks. Of all the regrets he had in the world, the greatest of all was not reconciling with his family. Not reconciling with Boots, or Lizzie, or Dad… but most of all, with Mom. The sight of her body caused a tear to slip down Gregor's cheek._

"Having a good time?" a voice echoed through the darkness.

Gregor opened his eyes, which were tearing profusely from the Murk. Ripred stood over him with a savage smile stretching across his face. Spurred on by the pain and tragedy he had just witnessed before his very eyes, he grabbed his sword and wrathfully swung it upwards.

But Ripred parried the attack with elegant ease, before wrapping his claws around Gregor's throat. With an almighty roar, he flung Gregor's body as far as he could across the hall.

Gregor crashed into benches and chairs, his vision rocking about turbulently. His head felt sorer and heavier than it had ever been in twenty-three years of his life. His vision fluctuated like a damaged light bulb flickering on and off. One moment he could see the imposing figure of Ripred striding towards him, the next he was in the middle of a dark pit, surrounded by his most diabolical enemies.

Gregor's vision flashed back to Ripred, who was now upon him. Gregor swung his sword again, but Ripred blocked the strike nonchalantly. A thin object suddenly flew out of nowhere and slammed into Gregor's neck, almost crushing his windpipe on impact. It then began to constrict him, and Gregor could see stars beginning to twinkle in front of him as his vision began to fade away.

He was slipping into unconsciousness… he needed to do something. Fast.

He swung his sword up again, forcing the thin object to retract itself. Through his splintered vision, he could barely make out Ripred slowly moving his tail to the back of his body where it normally was. So that's what the thin object was- his tail.

Fighting back the pain and fear which was lodged into his senses, he stumbled to his feet for the first time since inhaling the Murk. A strong wave of nausea hit him and he nearly threw up on the spot, but he stood his ground and faced Ripred.

The old rat, however, spared him no mercy and rammed into him, sending Gregor flying backwards. He crashed into a wall and slumped down, too consumed by pain and exhaustion to continue.

"The people see you as a god," he heard Ripred snarl, "But it's time for us to show them that deep down, you're just a man."

Gregor tried to get back onto his feet, but Ripred slammed into him and pinned him against the wall. The rat's foul breath now entered his lungs, smelling just as bad as the Murk. Gregor wrinkled his nose in disgust and tried to turn his head away, but Ripred locked his claws around Gregor's neck and held him in place.

"It's time to show them your fear and your weakness," Ripred growled, slipping his other set of claws through a chink in Gregor's shoulder armour and penetrating the skin on Gregor's left shoulder. Gregor yelled in pain for the umpteenth time as he felt blood bubbling out of his newest injuries.

Ripred had won the battle for Regalia. He was going to dethrone Luxa and assume control for himself, because the only enemy that still stood against him was dispatched of. Gregor was defeated.

Or was he?

If he was going to go down, he was going to go down fighting. Realising he still had a sword in his right hand, Gregor forced himself to endure the pain and fight. He thrust his sword weakly, hoping for a miracle.

And he got the miracle.

The blade cut through Ripred's left side, leaving a significant gash as its mark. Ripred immediately sprang backwards, hissing in pain. As his claws left Gregor's body, Gregor almost let out another cry as his shoulder stung with pain.

Gregor's vision suddenly cleared for a brief second and his complete rager vision returned, showing him Ripred's numerous weaknesses once more. It quickly dissipated back to its clouded fashion, but this could only mean one thing.

The effects of the Murk were wearing off.

Encouraged by this turn of events, he advanced towards Ripred. But even in his recovering physical state, he was still way out of his depth. Ripred parried all of his attacks before responding with a sharp jab from his claws, nearly slipping through a chink in Gregor's hip armour. Gregor replied with a vicious swing of his blade, but Ripred was still up to the task, parrying it and slamming his left paw into Gregor's chest, which sent him stumbling back against the wall.

Ripred then closed the gap with a powerful leap, before clamping his jaws down on Gregor's right shoulder armour. Although Ripred's teeth were razor-sharp, Gregor's armour still just about protected him. Ripred's teeth hadn't penetrated the armour, but they were leaving serious dents in it.

The rat then used his phenomenally powerful jaw muscles and lifted Gregor off his feet, before hurling Gregor across the floor of the High hall. Gregor skidded across the floor, disoriented and still smarting from the injuries that Ripred had inflicted on him. He reached out with his right hand to feel his head, and then glanced at his hand.

It was stained with blood.

Gregor's hand quivered slightly. He couldn't continue fighting like this… At this rate, he was going to die from his head injuries. He staggered over to his mask and fitted it back on as quickly as possible.

When he turned back around, he found Ripred limping towards him with a determined look plastered on his face. The old rat wasn't going to give up.

Neither was Gregor.

He whistled as softly as possible once. And then twice. And then thrice.

If anything happened to Apollo, Gregor would sincerely regret it with all his heart. But this was a matter of life and death. Ripred had played his ace with the Murk bomb. It was time for Gregor to reveal the card hidden up his sleeve.

His hands suddenly shuddered, and then his body began to convulse. Gregor backed away from the incoming Ripred, and licked the sides of his mouth. He was greeted with the metallic taste of blood lining his teeth and the inside of his mouth. The Murk's effects had a devastating effect on his physical condition.

Gregor had to end this fight as soon as possible, or he was going to die.

And if that meant killing Ripred, then so be it.

Ripred now closed the distance between the two to a mere six feet, and the rat made his move first. Gregor was barely able to deflect the multiple attacks that the rat strung together. His sword flew all over the place to parry the attacks, but he found all his movements slow, sluggish and sloppy. Every parry felt laborious, every thrust felt unconvincing, even breathing felt exhausting.

But somehow, Ripred couldn't seem to break past his defence. With a frustration on Ripred's face reminiscent of Gregor's own frustration when trying to break down Ripred's defence earlier, Gregor found an opportunity to wind Ripred up.

"I thought I'd be dead ten minutes ago," he goaded Ripred, "I guess things do change."

The old rat, however, seemed far too experienced to let himself get hooked by Gregor's bait. Clearly unwilling to give in to his irritation, Ripred backed off and watched Gregor closely. Gregor quickly scanned his surroundings to see if he could use anything.

To his surprise, he found his jewelled dagger lying at one side quietly. Gregor inched over to it, watching Ripred as he made his move. He quickly snatched out with his left hand and grabbed it, before facing Ripred with full focus once more.

But the rat didn't make any attempt to rush forward and assault him. Instead, he eyed Gregor from head to toe with mild amusement. "So here we are," Ripred remarked, "Battered, bruised, bloodied, but no where close to finding a winner. I think this is called a stalemate."

Gregor's enhanced rager hearing picked up the sound of the beating of wings. Within two seconds, he heard the sound of glass behind him breaking. "Things change," he snarled at Ripred, before leaping as high up into the air as possible and stretching out both legs.

He found himself landing on Apollo's back. The big black bat towered over Ripred and glowered at him, before launching himself straight at the rat.

Hollering a battle cry at the top of his lungs, Gregor felt adrenaline rush through his body as Apollo slammed into Ripred. The bat then smashed through another glass panel of the building and shot back out into the streets of Regalia. Gregor winced slightly at the force of the impact, which must have been enough to break Ripred's neck. But amazingly, when Gregor looked down, he found Apollo gripping hold off Ripred, who was dangling in mid-air as the bat flew across the streets.

Apollo began an upward ascent, but just as they flew over the arena, Ripred lashed out with a claw and tore through Apollo's right wing.

"APOLLO!" Gregor yelled as the bat began to plummet in a downward spiral towards the ground. Gregor's heart raced like it was running for its life as his world spun around and around and around. He could barely hear his own thoughts above his screaming, and he was vaguely aware of Ripred shouting out loud too, and he was…

He landed with a resounding thud on the sand of the arena. He heard a second thud, and then a crash that reverberated around the walls of the arena. Groaning aloud to himself, he stumbled to his feet and found himself staring at Apollo's body. His fear and shock during the fall was replaced by horror and guilt within a second.

"APOLLO!" he screamed out again as he sprinted over to the body of his friend. No, no, no…. Not again… He swore he would never forgive himself if he let it happen again… He can't live with this… Not like Ares. He couldn't have done it twice, but… Fighting Ripred wasn't worth the life of Apollo. That stupid bat… he shouldn't have come… but Gregor had called him…

What had Gregor done?

"I'm alright," the bat suddenly breathed, shooting his head up and swivelling it around to face Gregor, "I am alright, Warrior."

He was bleeding heavily in his right wing and he looked badly bruised, but at least he was still alive. Gregor let out one of the heaviest sighs of relief he had ever made in his life.

His sigh was cut short as a force crashed into him from behind, sending him flying across the sandy floor of the arena. Moaning in pain again, he rolled around the floor for a while, before getting back up onto his feet slowly. His right knee nearly collapsed suddenly, causing him to stagger about. But once more, through sheer mental determination, he forced the pain back down his throat and looked up.

Ripred, with his fur caked in a combination of blood and sand, faced him with a look of determination on his face too. A quick glance at the state of the old rat's body could reveal the broken bones he had sustained and the deep wounds which he bore. But against all odds, the rat was still standing on all four legs, albeit barely. He looked like even the gentlest breeze could knock him over like a bowling pin.

His snout looked out of shape, and his lips were cut and bleeding. His left and right flanks were covered in scratches and injuries, while his left cheek smeared with blood leaking out of the cuts which were caused by Gregor's gauntlets. The top of his head was stained with blood too. All in all, he made a sorry sight.

But pity was the last thing on Gregor's mind.

With all the energy he still had coursing through his veins, he rushed at Ripred and began what felt like his final attack. He feinted up with his sword before launching an attack with his dagger. Ripred was barely able to block Gregor's strike, panting heavily as he did so.

Gregor thrust his sword at Ripred's ear, which the rat also just about deflected off course. The tip of Gregor's blade whistled right past his ear, but he remained undeterred. He slashed his dagger upwards, trying to catch Ripred by surprise, but Ripred met the dagger with a counter-slash to block the strike.

He responded by slashing his claws at Gregor's chest, but Gregor was able to pull his blade back in time to parry it. The rat followed up with a double feint before slashing at Gregor's throat, an attack which forced Gregor to use both his sword and his dagger to defend.

Gregor then crossed the blades of his sword and dagger, before slashing outwards at Ripred with both weapons. Unable to fend off the attack, Ripred backed off a few steps.

Just as Gregor was about to close the gap, the rat caught him off-guard by leaping forward and crashing into him. As they tumbled about the sandy, grainy floor of the arena, Gregor saw Ripred raise his claws into the air.

And he brought them down on Gregor's mask.

The claws nearly raked themselves through his mask, with one claw in particular actually penetrating the armour and leaving a scratch mark on Gregor's right cheek. Disoriented and shaken, Gregor lashed out with a powerful kick from both his legs.

His feet connected with Ripred's underbelly and sent the rat flying off him. Gregor tried to get to his feet and prepare for another onslaught by Ripred, but he couldn't even see what was in front of him. Ripred's claw attack had damaged his mask beyond repair. Gregor couldn't fight in its wrecked state.

He pulled it off and chucked it to one side, before facing Ripred, who was back on his feet but was lurching about. Maybe Ripred was right. Maybe this was destined for a stalemate all this while.

But Gregor couldn't afford to think that way. Not when the fate of Regalia hinged on whether he could stop Ripred now.

So Gregor steeled his nerves yet again, and began to walk towards Ripred.

There was no rushing, or racing forward, or trying to engage the old rat with as much speed and force as he possibly could. He was going to have to fight tactically from now on and beat the rat at his own game. He could hear a commotion beginning to brew outside the arena, which meant that those incompetent Regalian soldiers finally seemed ready to coordinate an effort to break up the fight- if they had the balls to do it.

Gregor thrust at Ripred's right cheek before turning his thrust into a slash at the rat's mouth. Ripred managed to twist his head out of the way just in time, but Gregor's blade came inches close to hurting the rat, the tip of his blade shaving off half of Ripred's whiskers.

Gregor now switched over to go low for Ripred's feet, forcing the wounded rat to back away once more. Ripred tried to start a counter-attack with a couple of slashes, but Gregor parried those attacks comfortably. Gregor then changed to bringing his blade down on Ripred's head, forcing the rat to bring both claws up to shield his skull.

Spotting a gap, Gregor jabbed his dagger forward, but Ripred was able to bring a right paw down to swat the attack aside. Ripred's breathing had become a lot more strained as he struggled to fend Gregor off.

This was it.

The rat was finally going to break.

Gregor infused more effort and determination into his attack, pounding his sword against Ripred's claws harder than ever. He unleashed a triple feint, going up and down before stabbing at Ripred's snout. Ripred's rager abilities allowed him to deflect the attack, but he was slowing down. Every single action he made screamed out how tired and injured he was.

Every broken bone and cut was weighing him down by a ton. Ripred bounded away as far as possible to catch his breath, but Gregor wasn't going to allow him to even out the fight again. Even if Gregor himself was bleeding heavily and was suffering an immense amount of pain, he couldn't let victory go now. Not when he was so close to saving Regalia.

He sprinted after Ripred and slammed into the rat aggressively. His sword and dagger flew out of his hand, but he didn't care. Ripred tried to attack him with a couple of wild swipes, but Gregor was able to bring his gauntlets up and block the attacks. He delivered a solid punch to Ripred's bruised jaw, provoking a gasp from the rat. He then pinned the rat down and pulled his arm back to knock Ripred out.

But just before he punched the rat squarely between the eyes, Gregor heard the fluttering of wings. He glanced up and found Apollo flying lop-sidedly to the entrance of the arena, where Regalian soldiers were trying to squeeze through.

"FIGHT HIM!" Apollo yelled, "YOU HAVE TO FINISH HIM!"

The bat slammed into the Regalian soldiers, sending all of them tumbling outside. He then stretched out his wings and stood in front of them to deny them an entrance into the arena. A couple of fliers tried to fly in, but he launched himself up into the air and engaged them in an aerial battle.

Gregor turned back to face Ripred, who suddenly leapt at him with his jaws wide open. Gregor ducked underneath the leap and rushed over to his sword and dagger. He grabbed them and spun around immediately, blocking another attack from Ripred in the last possible second. He then parried a couple of furious attacks from him, before slashing his blade outwards.

The edge of the blade sliced along one of Ripred's scars, reopening the wound. Ripred staggered back in shock, reaching up with his claw to feel if the blood was real. Then, with his eyes blazing with fury, he turned to look at Gregor.

Gregor would have been lying if he said he wasn't intimidated.

Ripred charged straight at him, belting out squeaks which must have been profanities in gnawer tongue. Gregor triggered his rager abilities yet again, reacting purely based on instinct.

Amidst the intense fighting, Gregor found another weakness on Ripred. He suddenly fired a savage kick at Ripred's throat, sending the rat flying back and gagging from the blow.

This was his chance.

Gregor, having practised this a million times in the arena, threw his dagger at Ripred. As the dagger flew through the air, Gregor made a silent prayer that those million times would pay off.

The dagger spun through the air vertically, before…

… embedding itself in Ripred's right shoulder.

Bellowing in pain, the old rat sank to the ground in defeat.

 _Defeat._

Gregor had won.

Gregor trudged over to the rat, who looked like he had collapsed for good. "It's over, Ripred," Gregor told him triumphantly, "It's over."

Gregor lifted his blade up, preparing to bring it down on Ripred.

"Please… " Ripred croaked out hoarsely, "Don't do it. You're better than that. You… you know you are."

"Why should I?" Gregor snarled, even though inside he had softened up. He couldn't kill Ripred, could he?

But then he remembered all the pain and suffering Ripred had inflicted on him, and then the conversation with Apollo returned to him. " _There will be no guilt. Not after what he's done,_ " Gregor had said.

And he was right.

"You've taken everything from me all my life," Gregor said bitterly, "You've destroyed everything I've ever cared about. And for what? For Regalia? SINCE WHEN DID YOU CARE ABOUT REGALIA?"

"I'm sorry," Ripred mumbled.

Those two words from Ripred lowered Gregor's guard. His hand faltered slightly and he lowered his blade, because those were the two words Gregor had been waiting to hear from Ripred.

Ripred suddenly threw himself at Gregor, brandishing his claws and swinging it. But once again, Gregor's rager instincts proved to be too much.

He parried both attacks with a lighting-fast reaction, before stabbing at Ripred. The tip of the blade whistled through the air, hindered by nothing as it shot forward like a bullet, heading straight towards Ripred's face, piercing…

… Ripred's left eye.

With an ear-splitting scream of anguish which left Gregor reeling, the rat fell back onto his back, with blood oozing out of his left eye. The old rat finally sagged to the ground, his breathing shallow and his legs all limp.

Gregor had blinded Ripred in one eye.

Shocked initially at hurting Ripred so badly, he then hardened up and ice froze over his heart. It was time to handle Ripred with the same amount of cold ruthlessness he used to throw at others.

It was time to kill the Peacemaker.

"DO IT, WARRIOR!" Gregor heard Apollo scream.

He turned around and found Regalian soldiers filing in, with Apollo's wings bound in chains and with a couple of Regalian soldiers pushing the black bat in.

"HE WON'T SHOW YOU ANY MERCY!" Apollo yelled.

Gregor looked back down on Ripred and found the ice in his heart melting away from the fiery fury which consumed him. Gregor's policy in life was trying to avoid hating people, but here, standing over the rat who had broken him and destroyed him on the inside, he could barely contain the bitter hatred pouring into his soul.

Unable to translate his wrath into words, he lifted his blade up and prepared to plunge it down into Ripred's skull. That action alone was worth more than all the words in the world used to describe Gregor's hate for Ripred. That action was the greatest form of expression that Gregor could produce.

That action completed justice in an unjust world.

But a mere second before Gregor brought his blade down, he heard Ripred mumbling softly, "Just… do it. Why don't you just kill me?"

Gregor's mind flashed back to a time when he was lying helplessly on a cavern floor, struggling to breathe as blood was drained out of his body. He remembered how much he had given up- how he thought he was going to die.

He remembered how he was at the mercy of Flavius.

And he remembered how he had said those _exact same words._

 _Why… why… don't you… just kill… just kill me?_

Why don't you just kill me?

The epiphany takes less than a second, but the shockwaves of the revelation are almost enough to send him to his knees beside the rat he hated beyond measure.

He was in the exact same position Flavius was in two years ago.

The diabolical, murderous, cruel, insane fox.

He was essentially…

He was a diabolical, murderous, cruel, insane human.

No matter what Ripred had done to him, he couldn't just kill Ripred out of his own insecurities or anger. He spent the last thirty-six hours brutally hurting people who didn't deserve it. They were just doing what they thought was right. The Fount soldiers, York, Susannah, Luxa, Ripred…

They were just like him. They were doing what they thought was right.

And he had hurt each and every single one of them in the process.

So as Gregor stood over Ripred, with the power to end yet another life, he hesitated.

Even with the most pent-up rage and bitter hatred, he hesitated.

He was the Warrior. Every Regalian soldier standing in the arena, staring incredulously at the scene in front of their eyes, looked up to him. People worshipped him like a god. Soldiers honoured him as a good man, and sometimes even joined in the silent and unspoken adoration of Regalia's saviour.

But here he was, threatening to undermine all he stood for. All the goodness, all the inspiration, all the courage… All given up just to end Ripred's life.

All given up to be just like Flavius.

As Gregor looked down at the one-eyed rat, a single tear rolled down his face.

This was Ripred, a rat who had sacrificed so much and protected him so much when no one else would have or could have done the same for him. This was Ripred, a rat who appeared to be a monster on the outside but cared deeply for the people around him and the city he loved. This was Ripred, a rat who had done so much for Boots and Lizzie, Gregor's own little sisters. Ripred, a rat he admired, respected… and loved.

Memories began to flood back slowly. Meeting the rat for the first time and seeing his intelligence, his deadliness, his pain…

Saving the rat from being backstabbed by Henry.

Watching the rat take on Gorger's minions as he sprinted towards the cliff.

Forcing the Bane into the rat's hands to protect the peace.

Going deep into the jungle with him and learning how out of control he was as a rager.

Turning, turning and turning again with him.

Saving him from a prison made by the Bane.

Getting advice about his love with Luxa from the rat- one of those rare, serious and poignant moments he shared with Ripred.

Fighting in the tunnel while Luxa was carried away to safety.

Training with echolocation.

Watching the rat calm Lizzie down.

Talking to the rat before he flew into battle with the Bane.

Hearing the rat talk about the death of his family, and how much it had hurt him… especially the loss of Silksharp.

Talking to the rat for what felt like the final time before flying into his final battle with the Bane.

Finding out that the rat was supposedly dead, and feeling like part of him had died as well

Finding out he was alive- One of the most joyous moments in a dark and painful war.

Saying goodbye to him and getting some last bits of advice about being a rager.

Returning back to the Underland and seeing him again.

Fighting together in battle with the fate of Regalia at stake.

And now, standing here with the opportunity to take his life away.

Gregor and Ripred may not have, and probably never will admit it to each other, but the reason why the both of them were still alive was because of each other. All the narrow escapes, the close shaves, the burdening on each other… Gregor had lost count how many times he owed Ripred for saving him from dying.

And yet, somewhat ironically, after all Ripred had done for him, Gregor was going to pay Ripred back by killing him and taking his life.

Ripred, behind the masquerade of indifference, had sacrificed everything to protect Regalia. The old rat had abandoned his dignity, ignored his deteriorating body to the point where his every breath was a painful inhalation, and suffered tremendous psychological pain. He had given up his LIFE for the city and the Underland.

And in that very moment, Gregor realised something- He realised that deep down, Ripred had even more humanity in his soul than Gregor ever had.

Gregor couldn't stop the tears from falling freely down his face now. He was a monster.

The very monster he thought he was fighting against.

He looked down at Sandwich's blade, his Excalibur. The blade designed for the greatest of kings was now no different from any other ordinary bloodstained sword out there- corrupted by the blood of the innocent. It grew heavier in his hands, as if it was being turned into a slab of stone by the atrocity he was about to commit.

Unable to recognise the killer he had become, Gregor backed away from Ripred's body. He looked around, struggling to make sense of the world, trying to find an answer to what he was.

He could hear shouts in the background from Apollo and the Regalian soldiers, but he was beyond caring about what they said. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was how much of himself he had lost over the years.

How did he turn from a hopeful boy with a moral code to a cold-blooded murderer?

Roaring out loud in frustration and despair, Gregor threw his sword to one side, disgusted by how he had used it.

He sank to his knees, and with sobs escaping his lips for the first time in years, he uttered the words he never thought he would ever say to Ripred again.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

 **And that's a wrap for this chapter! I hope that the action and emotion in this chapter sated you. Technically speaking, Gregor is the victor of this battle, but following the catharsis at the very end, is he really? Hopefully this chapter has triggered as much emotion in you as it did in me, having to write about my two favourite characters do battle against each other.**

 **But more than just that, this chapter is a huge turning point in this story, especially in terms of characterisation. Gregor's been a very dark and bitter character in my stories, but after this chapter there WILL be a return to who he truly is- a hero who embodies the best in all of us.**

 **By the way, the Murk is a gas which features in my first story. If you want more context to this chapter, check out my first story: The Warrior's Legacy, Chapter 16. Calvin encounters the Murk on that occasion.**

 **I'm very excited to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so please review! Even if you didn't like it/disagreed with it, I'd be happy to hear your opinions too. Favourites and follows are encouraged too, of course.**

 **Question: Who did you think deserved to win the fight? Who did you think truly won the fight? Please let me know ALL your thoughts in the reviews section.**


	16. Chapter 16: A Good Man

**Hello everybody! I'm sorry that it's been a month since my last update, but I've been really busy and I've had my fair share of ups and downs, including some intense grief. However, I'm back with another chapter, so I hope you guys are just as excited as I am! A HUGE thank you to all those who have reviewed my story over this last month: , Clytuis, A happy reader, THExPOTxHEAD(formerly known as Najeh), TheGreatAthlon5, Random, Alpha Death, FierceDeity24, DeathDrayanD, a guest reader, Randonfire, AresTheUnderlander, BryceSyce, Dragons boy, Jallex, HumanicHedgeHog, another guest reader, dragonfire, Gyltig, pyro159, NoahTheOverlander(nice to meet you!) and Reader. Your reviews have honestly kept me going through hard times this last month so thank you very much.**

 **Just to let y'all know, the breakdown of the poll results for the Gregor vs Ripred fight is as follows- 42% of you were on Ripred's side, 29% of you were on Gregor's side and 29% of you couldn't choose between the two.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: A Good Man**

Gregor fidgeted restlessly underneath the linen covers, feeling as if he was chained to his position. But Howard had insisted that he get some rest, or the lingering effects of the Murk might end up having a long-term impact on his respiratory and nervous system. The recovery time would take at least another couple of days, which felt like eons for Gregor. He sighed in exasperation and decided to run over the events of the past few days.

The Regalian soldiers who had surrounded Ripred and him actually ended up calling for medical help instead of arresting the both of them. Both of them were whisked away to the hospital, where Howard was running to and fro to keep both patients in a stable condition. The injuries Ripred sustained, especially the loss of his left eye, were all life-threatening, which meant that he was sent to the intensive care unit. Word came round that he would survive and pull through the operations he was getting, but he wouldn't be the same fighter again.

Whilst his injuries were not that severe, Gregor was still treated immediately for the deep wounds in his shoulder and knee, as well as for his Murk-infested lungs. Gregor's physical condition had deteriorated quickly within minutes after Ripred's fight as the Murk's effects returned to haunt him, quite literally. Apparently, while Howard was operating on him, he was thrashing about in the bed violently, screaming out Lizzie's name hysterically at the same time.

Gregor couldn't quite remember anything, bar the strobe-like flashes of light and distinct murmuring that might as well have been another language. The only language he understood throughout the procedure was pain, and they spoke to him in many dialects. Scalding, searing, piercing… Gregor's punishment was this tribulation for his murderous and violent impulses earlier

To Howard's credit, he didn't ask much of the fight between Gregor and Ripred. He quietly worked away at improving Gregor's physical condition, while occasionally dishing out advice for Gregor to follow. But there wasn't one word about his fight with Ripred, apart from a quick mention about how Ripred was doing quite well.

Apollo was also apparently sent to the hospital, despite the fact that he was technically under arrest for impeding Regalia forces. His eyes immediately began drifting about the room, hoping for something to cheer him up rather than letting himself settle on the topic of Apollo. But the white walls merely answered his blank expression with a blank expression. In the stifling hospital room, there was no escaping his darkest thoughts.

The truth was that Apollo had come far too close to death for Gregor to merely dismiss it as an off-chance. An eerie chill descended onto him, sending an ominous shiver down his spine and triggering a distant memory.

" _I've got to get in closer if I'm going to take it out._ "

There was wildfire burning in the Bane's eyes when he saw that. A mad king had tumbled off his throne unceremoniously with nothing to lose. He was diabolical and merciless, demonstrating close to no empathy or compassion in any breath he made. He was a living manifestation of cruelty and death.

Yet Gregor had flown Ares in willingly.

He had flown Ares in willingly, knowing that the consequences could be fatal.

It was so ironic, since it was his inaction that condemned the Underland to unparalleled misery and death. His decision to hold back when it mattered most, to strain against the will to bring his sword down and end the life of the Bane… Was that the moment? The moment he killed thousands of humans and rats unwittingly? The moment he killed Ares?

" _It would still have been immoral._ "

Would it? Given the chance to go back in time and end Hitler while he was an infant, would he have done it? Knowing that the fate of the world hinged on the decision to compromise on one's own values and murder a then innocent baby in cold blood?

Gregor's flashbacks were suddenly replaced by an image of the present. Gregor towered over Ripred's limp body as the rat heaved and gasped desperately to gulp down as much air as possible. Blood spilled out of the dark emptiness that was his left eye and his right eye was just as empty and lifeless, staring into the void. In that moment, Ripred and Gregor both knew the old rat was going to die.

And yet he hadn't.

Like the Bane, Ripred had escaped the clutches of death with the blade of Sandwich inches away from piercing his bulging jugular vein.

His sword lay quietly and almost fearfully on a chair in one corner, as if it strained to hide in the shadows despite its radiant glow, for fear of incurring its master's wrath. Gregor eyed it in its untainted form, admiring its length of three and a half feet of wholesome goodness. The blade, polished and free from the haunting stains of Ripred's blood, reflected Gregor's image back at him.

Gregor could see how broken he was in his eyes. His reflection told the whole story. A young man, carrying the weight of the world like Atlas did, forced to behave like a god to Regalia. A young man whose body bore the brunt of fierce fighting over the years and whose battle scars spoke more than a thousand words coming from his mouth. A young man whose conscience had been shredded in his struggle to find out who he truly was.

He had come to accept that he was both a hero and a murderer, a soldier and a pacifist. He was a living oxymoron who didn't know the purpose of his existence. In moments like these, Gregor longed to be living back when he was still a kid, when the world was so black and white and simple to understand.

But the world was so much more nuanced than that, and he wasn't ready for it. It was no wonder that Calvin had decided to leave this part of his life behind- there was just far too much pain and far too many moral dilemmas for a boy his age.

Gregor considered the tip of his blade, almost wincing as he imagined it penetrating his flesh and driving right through his sinew and muscle. He reached out absently and gently brushed his finger against its tip, bracing himself for the sharp sting that would accompany his action. But the blade didn't bite him… It just continued to gleam at him reproachfully, appearing to chide him for his lack of trust in it.

Because sometimes, Sandwich's blade was only sharp when it became the spear of Satan- when it was used to claim lives.

Even the greatest hazard in the room, the object which had been the instrument of so much fear and despair, could be harmless in the right hands.

Even power could be innocent, if in the right hands.

He deliberated over that idea, hope and cynicism taking hold in equal measure. Despite all the hope Gregor had lost over the years and despite the darkness which had consumed his soul, was there still hope? Was there still good left in this world? Was it still worth fighting for? Was this his destiny, to wonder about his life for an eternity without finding out the answers?

Could there be a life beyond sulking and fighting?

Fate had moulded him into a killing machine, an unrelenting, inescapable fact which tortured him every time his thoughts wandered into philosophical territory. But deep down, even after witnessing his horrific capacity for cold-blooded murder and even after all the atrocities he had committed, he still felt one emotion running through his body, revitalising damaged muscles and aching bones.

It was the feeling of hope.

Ripred had unknowingly allowed him to see how revenge had almost destroyed Gregor. In his wild spree of vengeance, Gregor had sipped from the poisoned chalice itself and almost died because of it. Gregor had almost ceased to exist, remaining as nothing but a memory of the twisted, warped brute who now breathed in his place.

But somehow, Gregor had pulled himself out of the abyss just when it was about to devour him completely. In those moments, Gregor realised it wasn't just his anger which had consumed him- it was an innate fear of being helpless and to blame. He'd fought through bitter tragedy after bitter tragedy only to find bitter tragedy facing him once again. It had broken him on the inside and left him desperate for change.

But you couldn't respond to tragedy with bitter fury. You had to respond to it with hope, goodness and a belief that you could overcome even the darkest days as long as you had the courage to do so.

Staring at his reflection, Gregor was surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes, so similar to…

So similar to Vikus. The twinkle disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but Gregor's heart softened for a second and small tears welled up in his eyes.

There was hope for him, even when he was stuck in the darkest point of his life.

Feeling mentally refreshed and encouraged suddenly, he closed his eyes and began to recount memories over the last few hours. His incoherent and jumbled thoughts quickly became a linear line of logic as he processed the news he had taken in.

A rumour that Gregor had picked up on in the midst of his operation was that Apollo, Gregor and Ripred had all been acquitted by Luxa and were free of any charges. Again, nothing was really confirmed and Gregor was still prepared to stand trial to answer for his crimes.

He knew he was bringing war to Regalia's doorstep. The inexorable fury that the Fount would rain down on Regalia was all on him. If he hadn't been impulsive and lost control of his feelings, Regalia wouldn't have had to plunge its hands into the filth and get locked in a brawl for power with the Fount. Simply put, he was at fault.

But instead of allowing himself to slip back into despair and mope about, Gregor quietly swore that he would do something about it, even if it meant sacrificing himself in some capacity.

A violent tremor suddenly shook the building, causing Gregor's heart rate to quicken for a couple of seconds. Hoarse shouting could be heard in the distance, and heavy thumping began to reverberate around the room.

Howard suddenly poked his head in and said firmly, "Stay PUT." The doctor then rushed out of the room and Gregor could hear increased thumping outside the corridors.

Gregor closed his eyes and clicked his tongue. Fuzzy images began to realise themselves in front of him- humanoid shapes, claws, wings…

A large mob outside the hospital building. This couldn't be good at all.

Gregor hauled his battered body out of the hospital bed with a groan. He felt like a rusty machine having suffered catastrophic damage. His usually wiry muscles felt like shredded cheddar, and his balance was off, to say the least. He chugged about the room, switching from hospital clothes to the Underland's silk clothing with great difficulty. He glanced quickly at his cloak, wondering whether he should let a symbol of his darkness become a part of his apparel. To him, clothing mattered in his bid to become a new person.

But truth be told, he felt naked without it. He quickly slipped it on and reached out for his sword, giving himself an earnest look while staring at his own reflection.

The blade was only sharp and deadly if its wielder meant for it to be.

Gregor slotted his blade into his scabbard and hitched it onto his belt. He then shuffled out of the room and made his way down the intricate corridors towards the entrance of the hospital. He nearly tripped in fright at the sight in front of him.

A large group of people had amassed outside the hospital, surrounding Howard and shaking their fists angrily at him. Their animalistic and guttural hollering made it impossible for Gregor to decipher what they were saying, but needless to say they were pissed as hell. Howard looked like he was about to be torn to pieces by them.

Recovering his composure quickly, Gregor opened the doors and stepped outside, causing an immediate hush to fall on the crowd. But the incensed shouting quickly resumed, ascending in a crescendo into a cacophony of profanities and the like.

"Get back to your room!" Howard shouted at Gregor, somehow projecting his voice over the jarring noise of the crowd.

"Not a chance," Gregor replied bluntly to Howard, before straining his voice to yell, "QUIET!"

Another hush enveloped the crowd, before one man yelled back, "They're treating traitors in the hospital!"

"I have a duty to do so!" Howard yelled back angrily. "And none of them are traitors!"

"They slaughtered twenty good men at the market!" a woman howled in anguish

"But none of them were involved in it!" Howard protested. "They're just as innocent as those who died in the attack!"

"What's going on?" Gregor asked in a firm and authoritative voice, hoping to command some attention and calm everything down.

"Half a dozen gnawers attacked humans and fliers at the market," Howard explained, his voice itself bristling with fury. "Twenty humans and three fliers were killed. Another two dozen women and children were captured by gnawers and are being held hostage. A huge riot broke out afterwards and these gnawers were injured during the riot."

"Why?" Gregor asked, shocked by the news.

"Rebel gnawers," Howard replied tersely. "They've been living amongst us for years. They probably got word from their brothers near the Fount to unleash a terror attack here."

"Exactly!" one woman wailed as tears gushed down her pale cheeks, "How do we know the gnawers in the hospitals aren't traitors too?"

"Perhaps Lord Ripred is behind this," someone else speculated. "Maybe that's why he attacked the Warrior! It was a coordinated attack!"

"IT WASN'T!" Gregor bellowed, shutting down the rumour instantly. "It was all me."

"The coordinated attack was all yours?" one man asked incredulously.

"No," Gregor replied exasperatedly, "that's not what I mean. I… I…"

Shame became a lump in his throat, and he struggled to say out loud, "I was the one who attacked Ripred." The guilt laced in his words nearly made him choke, but he was able to swallow the lump down and look up, averting his gaze so as to avoid looking at the surprise and disappointment written on everybody's face.

When no one else spoke up, he went on, "The gnawers have lived together in peace with the humans for the last decade. I know times are difficult and sometimes we lose hope. But this isn't a time to turn on each other… Not when this city needs to stay united against our enemies."

"How can be united when we can't even trust each other?" another man in the crowd retorted. "We trusted each other, and the gnawers repaid that trust by killing us!"

"The actions of a few do not represent the intentions of the majority," Howard argued, "especially when the gnawers have done their part in preserving our peace."

"Whose side are you really on?" the same man spat back at Howard.

"He's on Regalia's side," Gregor stated fiercely, "and he always will be. Doctor Howard has seen years of patients and has served Regalia faithfully. The least you can do is to give him due respect for what he has done."

Gregor's rebuke actually shamed the man into silence. He shuffled back a couple of steps and murmured, "Forgive me, Warrior. I spoke out of hand."

"There is no need for any forgiveness," Gregor responded kindly, "but I need to know what the Council is doing about this."

"They are currently discussing this issue in the Council hall," Howard answered. "Perhaps it is fitting that you join them and deliberate over Regalia's course of action. Shall I escort you there?"

"No harm," Gregor replied simply, stretching out his arm and indicating for Howard to lead the way. His body hadn't fully recovered, and he was probably going to need a medical professional like Howard to stay by his side for the next couple of days if he wanted to stay in the thick of the action.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Howard led Gregor down the bruised streets of Regalia. Gregor caught sight of a rat and a human squaring off against each other, before backing away reluctantly after a soldier intervened. Other rats and humans just glared at each other with intense distrust and hatred. The tension in the air was palpable.

"You should be resting your body," Howard said once he was sure that their voices were out of earshot.

"I should be out here," Gregor replied adamantly, "They need me now, more than ever before."

"They need you now? After that spectacular show you put up with Ripred?" Howard scoffed, "I'm not sure they trust you as much as before, especially now that you've confessed that you started the fight."

"Maybe," Gregor sighed, "But they've got no one else to turn to."

"I lied, you know," Howard said abruptly.

Gregor frowned and faced him. "I'm sorry?"

"One of the gnawers behind the attack in the market is in the hospital," Howard admitted. "I treated him personally and he's resting now. The soldiers killed most of the gnawers involved in the attack, but he survived."

The look of conflict on Howard's face made Gregor feel immense pity for the doctor. Whatever dilemmas Gregor faced as a soldier were dwarfed when it came to the dilemmas Howard faced. He had sworn to help those in need, but treading the line between duty and one's personal conscience was a fine line for a doctor.

"I couldn't tell them the truth," Howard continued, "or they'd rush in there and tear him from limb to limb. I was so close to doing it myself."

They trudged down the streets in silence for a little while, before Gregor spoke up, "Remember that time when Twitchtip was drowning?"

"Bless her soul," Howard mumbled. "She was a good gnawer. She was way ahead of her time… She knew the importance of peace. Twitchtip was the first to teach us that not all gnawers are evil."

"Mm hmm," Gregor replied with a nostalgic smile. "She did just that. But you guys didn't trust her at first, remember?"

Howard's face went on full display of bitter guilt as he replied, "It was my worst day as a doctor. I treated her life as… as something less, just because she was a gnawer. I almost let her drown when I had the power to save her."

"Yea," Gregor recalled, "but look where we've come. You're saving gnawers, even when they've hurt other people. You don't look at a gnawer any different than how you look at a human."

They both glanced at each other, and a mutual feeling of understanding and respect was exchanged without any words. The both of them knew what Gregor was trying to say without Gregor having to say anything.

The sudden assault of noise on their ear jolted them out of their melancholic pondering. Gregor found himself staring at two Regalian soldiers pointing their swords at a female rat, whose fur stood on end. She snarled viciously at them before lashing out wildly, nearly catching one soldier's throat.

Gregor's line of vision began to align itself behind her back, eliciting a barely concealed gasp from him.

Four or five little pups cowered behind her back, shaking uncontrollably like autumn leaves in the midst of a hungry hurricane. They squeaked softly, but loud enough for Gregor's echolocation-trained ears to pick up on the fear that gripped them.

"Archers!" one soldier called out.

A couple of bowmen moved out of dark corners and into the light, before aiming arrows at the female rat, who was now gnashing her teeth together furiously. "Sandwich," Howard muttered.

"Back off, snakes!" the rat snapped at them.

"This is your last chance to follow us peacefully, gnawer," the other soldier warned. "We only wish to speak to you."

"Liar!" the rat hissed at them. "I've heard the noises. We've all heard the noises. You are going to torture us for information, aren't you?"

"It will be nothing of that sort, gnawer," the soldier assured her, even though Gregor could detect an edge to his voice. "Regalia exercises fairness to all its inhabitants."

"Sure," she replied sarcastically, "I believe you. Do you think our brothers and sisters are choosing to rebel against Regalia for no reason at all? Do you really think it's just a fanatical cult worshipping the Bane?"

"We don't think it is a cult," the soldier replied coldly. "We KNOW it is a cult."

"This cult was created by the killers," she spat back at them. "You all have been oppressing us for months and years without even realising it. So much for Queen Luxa assuring us that we could live together in peace… It was all just a ruse for the killers to use us as slaves for your own damn agenda. That's why there's a cult, soldier- Because you all gave us no other choice."

"Follow us now, gnawer," the soldier repeated himself. "Or…"

"Or what? You'll hurt me? You'll kill me? Not like the killers in the streets aren't doing it already," she replied. "Innocent gnawers are being beaten up by killers and are on the verge of death just because of some black sheep amongst us. Our homes are being ransacked and destroyed. But instead of stopping all of this from happening, you soldiers are just rounding even more innocent gnawers up for torture sessions."

"Please do not force our hand, gnawer," the soldier said with a sense of finality in his tone.

"DON'T YOU DARE call me 'gnawer' again," she snarled, "My name is Redclaw. But you don't give a shit, do you? At the end of the day, we're just another scumbag gnawer to you. You won't arrest your own kind but you'd be willing to commit mass genocide and discrimination against us. Well, let me tell you something, killers. You've been pushing at us for far too long, and now we're going to push back."

"Fire!" the soldier barked.

"NO!" Gregor yelled, but it was far too late to intervene.

Two arrows rocketed through the air like speeding bullets. The first arrow hit Redclaw's shoulder, causing her to rear back in pain and stand on her hind legs, while the second arrow…

Went right through her heart.

Her pups unleashed a terrified howl of anguish as their mother landed on the ground with a cold thud. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" Gregor hollered at the soldiers as he rushed over to her side.

"She posed a threat," one soldier answered, appearing slightly shaken, "She had to be taken out."

"Jesus, what have you done?" Gregor cursed away in panic. "HOWARD!"

"I'm here," he replied, appearing at Gregor's side and leaning over to gaze at her injuries.

"We're done here," the soldier said stoically, and the rest of them joined him in leaving the scene.

Gregor spat out another profanity in frustration before turning to face Redclaw. Blood was slowly trickling out of her mouth, inching its way down her limp body. Her eyes, blazing with intense hate earlier, were now dull and almost lifeless.

"There's nothing I can do," Howard concluded after inspecting the injury. "The wound is fatal."

"Warrior," Reclaw croaked out suddenly, and another spurt of blood sprayed out of her mouth like a dying fountain.

"I'm here," Gregor replied quickly. "I'm here."

"We're… not… the… enemies," she wheezed. "We've… done… no… wrong."

"I know. Those soldiers… those soldiers will pay for what they've done."

"No," she choked out slowly, shaking her head. "Don't… retaliate. No more… no more fighting. Or more… of us… will join… the rebels. We have… we need… peace… we… peace…"

Her speech became more garbled and incoherent and her words became unintelligible. Soon, she closed her eyes and her head drooped forward.

Gregor bowed his head in despair. She was just a mother trying to protect her children. But because she was a rat, because she was different, the Regalian soldiers slaughtered her. They slaughtered her in cold blood.

Gregor looked up, his heart burning with anger and he shook with absolute fury. They would all answer for this. Every single one of them.

But one word from Redclaw suddenly doused all those scorching flames out.

" _Peace._ "

She was right. Fighting and bloodshed couldn't be the answer. Even if that meant that justice had to be ignored, even if that meant that the scales of justice had to weigh in favour of corruption and evil, even if Lady Justice had to be violated. For the sake of peace, good people had to be sacrificed without retribution. The price was always heavier for those who tried to protect the greater good, but the price had to be paid.

"Bring them to Dulcet," Gregor ordered Howard, as he stared at Redclaw's pups huddling together in one corner.

"You need someone to escort-" Howard began, but Gregor cut him off.

"I can manage. They need someone to take care of them. The humans will no longer play nice, even with pups," Gregor said bleakly. "The streets aren't safe for them."

Howard nodded, before heading over to gather the whimpering pups up. Just as Gregor turned around to make his way to the Council hall alone, Howard spoke up.

"Make sure that you stop this madness."

Without turning back around to face Howard, Gregor said, "I will."

He then made his way down the winding streets, careful to keep his head down and maintain a low profile. The last thing he wanted was for his presence to spark off another riot or fight. As he made his way past the market, he actually staggered back from the wake of destruction in front of him.

Red marks were streaked across the pavement, and Gregor was sure it wasn't from the fruits. The cobblestones were torn from the ground and were scattered all across like seeds from a pea pod. The stench of rotting flesh seemed to linger in the air with sadistic glee. Gregor had seen scenes of mass destruction back in the Overland, whether it was from hurricanes or earthquakes. And yet all of that seemed so trivial when compared to this.

The scene in front of him spoke a thousand words of the internal turmoil and strife Regalia was enduring. The rotting plants that lay strewn across the ground and the smell of the stale, germ-infested streets that slowly eroded away served as portents of the calamity at Regalia's doorstep.

This was the stuff of nightmares.

A quick glance at the rat's designated living area sent a shiver down his spine. About a quarter of the homes were on fire, and he could hear violent shouting echoing through the streets. For a split second, he was tempted to go there and fight the humans and soldiers off. They had no right to take these rats' lives away from them. There was no reason to suspect each and every one of them just because some rats were involved in an attack.

Back in the Overland, this was called racism. But down in the Underland? It could be dismissed as something necessary for the welfare of the city. In fact, down in the Underland it was worse than all the blatant racism on the streets of America. The racism was subtle and unexposed, sinisterly gnawing away at Regalia's soul. It had to be stopped.

But Gregor took in a deep breath and focused. He had a mission which could protect the rats far more than going over there and throwing himself into a fight.

Gregor gingerly made his way past the metaphysical chaos in front of him and tried to ignore the glaring red stains that screamed at him from their spots, begging for his attention. He made his way out of the streets and past the arena, which looked tired and weary all of a sudden.

The fire in the Council hall was lit, which meant that a session was going on at that very moment. The perfect time for Gregor to make an entrance and get Regalia's head back in the game.

He pushed the double doors open and was greeted with a stunned silence. The chairs that were overturned in his fight with Ripred seemed to be upright now, while their blood stains were nowhere in sight, meaning that they had been cleaned up prior to this session. But there was no mistaking the look of fear and trepidation in everyone's eyes.

They knew what had happened in the Council hall.

"I apologise for interrupting this session," he said as politely and as formally as he could manage. "May I join you guys?"

Daedalus beckoned for him to take his seat amongst the uneasy crowd. "Thank you for gracing this session with your presence, Warrior," the old bat purred. "We look forward to hearing from you, especially considering the circumstances which this city is in. You have made a very timely appearance, because we have gotten to the most important part of the discussion."

Luxa tilted her head as Gregor took his seat amongst the audience members. Her eyes were so complex at the moment that it was difficult to know what she was thinking. He normally read her like an open book, but ever since his break-up with her she suddenly seemed so mysterious and aloof. It was now virtually impossible to decipher her thoughts.

But for a split second, Gregor caught sight of what looked like pity in her eyes.

Pity?

For him?

Gregor just shook his head and dismissed it. There would be time later on to find out what that pity means.

"The rebel gnawers have positioned themselves in caves which are a ten-minute flight away from Regalia," one Council member reported. "The Fount has marshalled its forces and has joined the rebel gnawers in the caves."

So York's threat wasn't empty after all. They were going to go to war against Regalia.

"This thus confirms the rumour," Daedalus continued, "that the Fount has allied themselves with the rebels. This means that as of this hour, we are officially at war with the Fount."

A huge commotion erupted, but Daedalus shut it down swiftly. "SILENCE PLEASE! I know that this is disconcerting news, but we have more urgent issues. Gnawers loyal to the rebels have kidnapped women and children under the name of Bane, and are holding them hostage in the caves. Our spies initially estimated a total of two dozen women and children being held hostage. The newest report coming in is that the hostages actually number over a hundred."

Shocked and panicked gasps punctuated Daedalus' ominous revelation. Another Council member, a small mouse, then spoke up, "However, both the Fount and the rebel gnawers have made a joint announcement that they will exchange the hostages for a fee of a thousand gold coins, and something else."

"What else?" Gregor asked immediately.

The Council member eyed him and said softly, "You, Warrior."

* * *

 **And that's it for this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it too boring. This chapter, in case you haven't realised, serves as a parallel or an allegory of our real world problems. What problems? If you can figure it out, write down your thoughts in the reviews section! These themes were touched on in Regalian Bloodbath, but I'm expanding them here. So yes, please feel free to air your thoughts on these themes.**

 **And yea, this is the start of a more hopeful and optimistic Gregor. Over this month, I've had time to craft his character a bit better, and you'll notice some of his dialogue reveals how he's become much less depressed and bitter and cynical.**

 **Favourites and follows are always welcome! Please drop a review! I really need those.**

 **Question: Apart from the question I mentioned a few paragraphs ago, here's another one: What should Gregor do? Feel free to express your thoughts in the reviews section!**


	17. Chapter 17: Rescue

**Hey everyone! This has probably been one of the toughest, if not THE toughest week in my entire life so far. But these people really did a fantastic job in making it infinitely better, so here goes my thanks to: THExPOTxHEAD, TheGreatAthlon5, a happy reader, a guest reader, phantom1299(thank you for coming back!), Clytuis, FierceDeity24, NoahTheOverlander, BryceSyce(how's your story coming along?), DeathDrayanD, Jedi1, HumanicHedgeHog, , Dragons boy(welcome back from your trip!) and finally, Reaper Whisper.**

 **I did get a review recently from someone I respect, saying that he/she hated my story. I do not harbour any ill will towards this person, and I thank you for having the guts to say that straight to my face. If any of my other readers hates my story or its characters, please feel free to let me know so that I know there's something wrong with my story.**

 **I won't lie, that review broke my already mourning heart but still, sometimes these things are necessary to keeping you on track. If my story has offended you or let you down, I'm really sorry. That being said, I did promise you guys in my very first chapter that this story had the potential to be controversial, so… I'm not particularly surprised.**

 **The last thing I have to say before you guys dive into this chapter is… treasure your family. Please do. You never regret it until it's far too late, and this week I learned a lot of painful lessons about that. So please remember to show your family love, even when times are difficult.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Rescue**

Calvin gazed at the farmhouse intently through his binoculars, his eyes scaling up and down its walls and penetrating through the grimy windows.

"At least three of them on the second floor," he told Mr Carter.

He glanced up at Mr Carter, whose furrowed eyebrows bellowed anxiety. The old man brought his hand up to his chin and stroked his stubble repeatedly, a nervous habit that apparently stayed with him loyally even throughout his duration in prison. His dark brown eyes seemed to lock onto the white farmhouse with burning intensity.

They could see half a dozen black vehicles parked conspicuously near the farmhouse, but all in different locations. There was no doubt that Operation Claw had gotten to the Walkers already. The question now was whether this was a deliberate trap set for careless rats, or whether Snake was genuinely not expecting them so soon.

It was likelier to be the former than the latter, which meant that Calvin had to go in there with a plan. But as every moment passed by, the tension in his gut only tightened even harder. Every second then flew by was a second closer to death for Gregor's family, if they weren't already dead.

For a split second, Calvin prayed for Gregor to appear. Gregor was the best fighter he knew, full stop. In terms of fighting prowess, Gregor was unmatched in the Underland and was practically close to the same in the Overland too, since he was able to deflect bullets aside as naturally as bullets bounced off Superman.

And given the chance to fight these devils and snakes, Gregor would spare them no mercy, especially with his family's lives at stake. He could have taken all of them on his own, driven merely by the fury of seeing his family held hostage.

Then there was the pressure to consider. Gregor may not have known it yet, but he was counting on Calvin and Mr Carter to protect his family. The burden couldn't have been heavier on Calvin's shoulders. If he died sacrificing himself for his own family or Gregor's family, then that'd be fine because it was his choice. If his family died while Calvin tried to protect them, that would be criminal and unforgivable, because he had put his family in harm's way.

But letting someone else's family die in his bid to protect them? That would be a punishment worse than death. Calvin almost shuddered as he imagined informing Gregor of the news, guilt dripping from his voice.

The look of horror on Gregor's face sent a shiver down his spine and shocked him back into reality. He shook his head to shrug off the image and then glanced back up at Mr Carter again. The old man still had a look of consternation glued to his face, but at least the fierce anxiety in his eyes had faded away.

"Is the family on the second floor?" he asked abruptly.

"I can't confirm it," Calvin replied, peering through his binoculars again. "But I don't think they're up there. If Snake has more men on the ground, then-"

"They're probably being guarded by those men," Mr Carter finished. "We're not looking at an ideal scenario."

"How long till the police catch up with us?" Calvin asked.

"I suspect they'll be on us by the end of today. I don't know if they've identified you as my accomplice, but they'll definitely find me soon."

"Maybe we can lead them on the trail of Operation Claw."

"We could, but they probably won't pick up on it. Remember, they're not looking for Operation Claw. They're looking for us."

"Like you always used to say," Calvin recalled with a sigh, "You can't find what you aren't looking for."

Mr Carter replied with his own sigh, before saying, "We've got a very small chance of rescuing the family. The best we can do is soften them up for Gregor."

"And what will they do with us?" Calvin asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to that question.

"You might live," Mr Carter said bleakly, "but they might make you wish you were dead."

"And you?"

"They'll kill me," Mr Carter replied stiffly, "if they don't have any other use for me. Maybe it's better that way. I don't want to be a pawn in whatever game they're playing."

"So this is it, huh?" Calvin said wistfully. "This is our legacy. This is where we make our last stand."

"Still going on about legacy after all these years," Mr Carter said fondly and slightly reproachfully. "You and your goddamn family have always let your legacies define who you are."

"You have a problem with that?"

"If you keep worrying about your future, you'll forget about the present," Mr Carter answered. "And by the time you realise your mistake, it's often too late to regret it."

Mr Carter's words rang with the truth. Even while trying to change his family's motto, Calvin had always let the idea of legacy haunt him like Vikus' ghost. In fact, his legacy was Vikus' ghost. The day he fired a bullet through Vikus was the day he lost part of his identity- the day he realised that even though he didn't mean for Vikus to die, he was still a murderer.

To Calvin, the idea of being a symbol appealed to him. The idea of himself being immortalised as a symbol of peace and human goodness was his lifelong dream. He still believed that was his ultimate goal in life- sending a message of peace and hope by becoming a symbol of it. And there was nothing more crushing than seeing himself as a murderer and a destroyer of the peace.

That was the reason why he set the killing and the guns aside. Because with those things he could never act as a symbol of justice and hope. With those weapons and those principles, he was just another murderer like the rest of those assassins.

But Mr Carter was right. If he kept allowing his legacy to define who he was, it'd overwhelm him and distract him from trying to redeem himself. So he did exactly what Mr Carter subtly suggested- focusing on the present.

"So how are we going to take them out?" Calin asked. "Do we have any particular strategy?"

"I'd love to make a coordinated attack," Mr Carter sighed. "One from the ground and one from the air. But we don't have the equipment to make an aerial attack, so we're going to have to make do with a ground assault."

"Charge right through the door and start fighting? It's not quite my style."

"Don't be stupid. We're outnumbered, so even if I wanted to do that it wouldn't even kill a single one of them. We're going to have to use guerilla warfare style if we want to take them down."

"The backdoor's being watched closely too," Calvin pointed out. "I don't think we can use it to bring them down. If we split up we'll both end up being killed in seconds."

"Then we create our own backdoor," Mr Carter responded. "It's pretty simple. We can opt to go through the windows or blow a hole in the wall. Either method will work."

"Let's save up on our ammo. If we don't need to blow down a wall then we won't do it," Calvin replied. "I can go through the window. I'm a better fit than you are."

"Agreed. I'll make an attack through the front entrance and toss in a couple of smoke grenades to distract them. You come in through the window and fight your way to the family. If you can, get out with them. If not, make sure the whole family escapes at all costs."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Calvin responded, checking his utility belt to make sure he had all the weapons he needed.

Except a gun, of course.

"Are you gonna shoot?" he asked Mr Carter.

"I don't believe in your 'no killing' policy," Mr Carter replied gruffly. "But we'll see. I might actually hold back from snapping some of their necks or putting a bullet through their heads."

With that, he gave Calvin a nod of encouragement and said, "Whatever happens, I'm proud of what you've achieved."

He then made his way down the hill and towards the farmhouse, leaving Calvin at the vantage point alone. Calvin looked through his binoculars at the farmhouse one more time. It looked so eerily quiet even a ghost would have been frightened by its chilling appearance. If Gregor's family was…

This wasn't the time to speculate and lose hope. Making a desperate, silent prayer to the heavens, Calvin got to his feet and made his way down the other side of the hill, consciously bringing his hand up to feel the toughness of his bulletproof vest.

The sprawling green of the place was a sight for very sore eyes, but within minutes Calvin was amongst the dirty, gritty green of the farm's plantation. Calvin made his way around the plantation and made a quick dash behind a weathered oak tree. He peered around it to make sure the coast was clear, before prowling towards the right side of the house, which seemed to be unguarded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mr Carter making his way around some bushes in the distance.

Hopefully Calvin's eyes weren't the only ones locked on Mr Carter's lanky figure.

Calvin edged closer and closer to the window, before dropping onto his belly and crawling towards the house. The moment he reached its walls, he crouched under the window and began to take in deep breaths.

After what felt like an eternity, he could hear some murmuring from the house. An explosion suddenly rocked the whole building, its vibrations sending dust and other particles falling off its roof. The murmurs now escalated into fearsome shouts and barks of anger.

Another explosion slammed into the building, and crashing noises could be heard distinctly. Calvin's heart froze when he heard a couple of gunshots, but then those sounds were followed by frustrated profanities. Mr Carter was doing an admirable job of frustrating them.

Then came a couple of feminine shrieks, which sounded like music to Calvin's ears. At the very least, Gregor's family was still alive.

Mr Carter's voice could suddenly be heard over the chaos which had consumed the house. "NOW!" Calvin heard.

He immediately got up and threw himself through the window, ignoring the piercing pain from the shards of glass that pricked his skin like a shower of needles. Landing on the ground painfully, he stumbled to his feet and took in his surroundings. Smoke engulfed the entire building and seemed to suffocate it along with its inhabitants. Violent coughing seemed to echo around the building and reverberate off its walls.

Calvin strapped on his gas mask quickly and made his way through the smoke, gritting his teeth to fight off the biting pain that nipped his limbs and back. He felt as if his body was on fire, and every step added more fuel to the flames. But the image of Gregor's family in danger was enough to spur him on and shrug off the pain.

Suddenly, through the hazy, swirling smoke, he saw a mercenary lifting his gun up to make a shot. Calvin immediately rushed forward and gripped the mercenary's arm. He yanked upwards, causing the mercenary to spray bullets at the ceiling instead.

Calvin drove a fist into the mercenary's ribs, which made the mercenary stumble back from the shock of the hit. Calvin then grabbed the nozzle of the gun and swung the whole rifle upwards, slamming the gun into the mercenary's face. He followed up with another sharp jab under the mercenary's right armpit, causing the mercenary to let go off his rifle. Calvin then wrapped his right arm around the mercenary's right arm and twisted like he was taught.

Calvin heard a crack, which was quickly followed by a hysterical scream by the mercenary. Calvin twisted the mercenary's arm in the other direction, and another crack ensued. Calvin then reared his left arm back and landed two solid punches between the mercenary's eyes, knocking him out cold.

Gunfire lit up the smoke-filled rooms, but Calvin got down underneath a table to avoid the bullets and whatever else ricocheted off the walls. Spotting a pair of legs not far from him, he lifted the whole table up and threw it at the figure.

The table crashed into the figure like a mortar shell, sending yet another mercenary down with a wail of pain.

The swirling smoke in the room began to float out through the broken window, forcing Calvin to position himself behind a cupboard. As the sound of a pair of heavy boots trudging across the room became louder and louder and drew nearer and nearer, Calvin readied himself.

A heavy-built mercenary advanced forward cautiously on his right. Calvin reacted faster than the mercenary did. He dropped a flash grenade on the ground and threw himself to one side with his eyes closed.

A howl of pain quickly followed, which was the signal Calvin needed to begin his assault. Opening his eyes, he jerked back from the intense glare that still lingered in the air. Squinting through the rays of light, he spotted the mercenary opening fire at will, gunning down a cupboard and sending splinters of wood and metal flying across the room.

Recalling the skills he learnt under Mr Carter, Calvin closed the gap and landed a punch to the mercenary's axillary nerve in his deltoid muscle. He drove a second punch to the same area and backed off, waiting for the results.

The mercenary gritted his teeth and winced in pain, still blinded by the flash grenade. Then he spun around to face Calvin, and in an embittered voice, said, "You chose the wrong mercenary to mess with, you piece of shit. I'll rip your body in two."

"You could," Calvin replied with a wry smile, "if your right arm worked."

The mercenary's right arm suddenly faltered and his gun slipped out of his grasp, hitting the floor with an ominous thud. Calvin advanced forward with growing confidence. The mercenary desperately tried to move his right arm, but it was as limp as a dead fish. Blasting another profanity out at the top of his lungs, he raised his left arm and threw a fist at Calvin.

Calvin caught the fist with his right hand, before using his left hand to deliver a karate chop to the mercenary's wrist. He followed up by firing his left fist into the mercenary's solar plexus, causing the mercenary to gasp from the pain.

With the mercenary reeling from the multiple blows, Calvin finished him off by punching his throat, and then kicking him in the ribs. The mercenary flew back and crashed against the wall, slumping down in unconsciousness.

The scream of gunfire triggered Calvin's senses again, and he quickly rolled behind a door, keeping his head as low as possible. He could hear Mr Carter yelling on the other side of the house, but he couldn't allow that to distract him. Based on the number of bullets hurtling in his general direction, he was guessing at least two mercenaries knew where he was.

His hands and fingers danced across his utility belt, searching for any device that could help him against them. They settled on a relatively large device, and Calvin pulled it out to inspect it.

It was a small time bomb set at thirty seconds. It wasn't a blast powerful enough to kill or cause a severe injury, but it could cause mayhem with a bit of time to plan, something which Calvin did not really have in abundance. But there was nothing he could do except to improvise on the situation.

He whipped out another device- a smoke bomb, and tossed it out into the living room. The mercenaries there began to curse and cough violently, which was the distraction Calvin needed to set up the bomb. Springing to his feet, he attached the time bomb to the top of the door frame and began the timer. He then backed up and raised his hands in the air to feign surrender.

The mercenaries emerged from the smoke and trained their weapons on him. "Stay where you are!" one mercenary barked at him.

Noticing they weren't standing directly beneath the door frame, Calvin took a step back, provoking them to take a step forward in response. "I said stay where you are!" the mercenary barked again.

Calvin's eyes flitted up to the clock on the wall. Seven more seconds.

"Take off the belt, kid. Or I'll give you something worse than death," the mercenary threatened. Two more seconds.

The bomb went off, causing rubble and and chunks of the ceiling to fall down on the mercenaries. Calvin's heart quickened its pace for a split second as the noise shocked him, but he recovered and rushed forward.

One of the mercenaries was down on the ground, but the other one was still on his feet, albeit bending over in pain. Ignoring the dust around him, Calvin drove his knee into the mercenary's forehead. The mercenary's head jerked back with a resounding crack and he landed on the ground, motionless.

For a split second, Calvin feared he had killed the mercenary. But the shallow rise of the mercenary's chest confirmed that he would live to see another day, even if it was exceedingly painful and unbearable.

Calvin turned back to the other mercenary, who had stumbled to his feet. The mercenary staggered about for a few seconds before regaining his bearings. Lifting up his rifle, he fired at Calvin, forcing him to throw himself to the ground again. He then scrambled across the room, ducking underneath the furious barrage of bullets that flew at him. He grabbed an ornate vase and hurled it at the mercenary.

That was the distraction Calvin needed. As the mercenary ducked underneath the projectile, Calvin charged forward and slammed into the mercenary, grabbing hold of the mercenary's gun and pinning it to the ground. But the mercenary wrenched the gun out of Calvin's gasp and aimed it right at him.

Calvin immediately kicked out at the rifle, knocking the nozzle upwards. He then crashed headfirst into the mercenary again, and they both sprawled across the floor, rolling amongst the broken remnants of the vase. Calvin winced slightly when he noticed a piece stuck in the mercenary's thigh, but he banished the thought and struck the mercenary across the face.

The blow was enough to draw the mercenary's attention away from his gun. Calvin yanked the rifle out of the mercenary's hands and flung it across the room. The mercenary responded in kind by punching Calvin right in the jaw.

Reeling from the pain, Calvin's hand instinctively went straight for his utility belt and he pulled out a mini taser. He jabbed the taser into the mercenary's ankle, evoking a sharp hiss from the mercenary. He went on the jab the mercenary in the arm and near the groin area, which made the mercenary release a muffled squeal of shock and pain.

In the midst of the chaos, Calvin reached out for the mercenary's pistol and quickly unloaded the magazine, causing bullets to scatter across the floor. He tried to toss the pistol aside, but the mercenary seized his arm and twisted sharply, causing Calvin to yell out in agony. He then reached out for the mercenary's other pistol, but the mercenary shifted his weight onto Calvin, pinning him down.

They struggled with each other on the ground, with Calvin clumsily fumbling about with both pistols. The mercenary then swung his elbow at Calvin's face, striking Calvin's right cheek hard. With his jaw ringing from the pair of blows, Calvin squirmed about on the ground, struggling to concentrate on fighting.

But the pain was far too great for him to handle. The mercenary got up and kicked him in the ribs, sending him skidding across the floor. Grimacing on the floor for a couple of seconds, he pushed himself up, only to see the mercenary aiming his pistol at Calvin.

"It's empty," Calvin told him, slowly rising to his feet.

"It's not," the mercenary replied with a triumphant grin. "I had a backup pistol, rich kid. Never go around without it."

"I know," Calvin agreed, pulling out the other pistol. "But I have it."

The mercenary's look of smug confidence quickly dissolved to form a look of confusion and ascending fear. He glanced down at the pistol in his hand. Calvin aimed the gun at the man's chest. "Put your hands on your head," Calvin ordered, "or I'll put one through your heart in the next ten seconds."

Calvin was bluffing- the gun he had was the one without bullets. But all he needed to do was sow the seeds of doubt and the mercenary would eat it all up because of fear. To his mild amusement, the mercenary tossed the pistol with live ammunition aside, and reluctantly placed his hands on his head. "Get out of here," he spat at the mercenary. "You don't need to throw your life away today. Not everyone will show you mercy, but I will."

"I agree with you," the mercenary replied with a sinister smile, "which is why I need to exploit this opportunity."

He pulled out a dagger behind his neck and hurled it at Calvin. Calvin ducked to avoid getting hit by the knife, but that was the only diversion the mercenary needed. He threw himself at Calvin and gripped Calvin's wrist, squeezing and twisting hard. Another yelp of pain punctuated the air as Calvin released his hold of the gun.

The mercenary then pressed Calvin up against the wall, and wrapped his hand around Calvin's throat. He shot Calvin a venomous grin before tightening his grip around Calvin's throat. Calvin began to splutter as spittle flew out of his mouth like the Bellagio fountains. Gasping like a fish out of water, Calvin slammed his palm into the mercenary's throat, shocking the mercenary into loosening his grip.

Calvin then fired a couple of punches at the mercenary's ribs, forcing him to drop both his arms to protect his abdomen area. Just as he had practised with Mr Carter, Calvin exploited the space that the mercenary had freed up around his head area to strike. Calvin struck his face with a left hook and then a right hook, before deliberately aiming a right uppercut at the soft tissue under the mercenary's chin.

The moment he struck the nerve clusters in that area, the mercenary stumbled back rapidly, swiping his arms in the air in panic. Calvin threw another fist straight at the mercenary's face, and his knuckles came into contact with the mercenary's nose. Blood cascaded out of the mercenary's nostrils as he continued to sway like a feeble tree in a violent thunderstorm.

Calvin grabbed the mercenary and hauled him closer, before delivering an anger-fuelled punch to his throat. The mercenary gagged and collapsed on the floor, now becoming the fish out of water. Ignoring the mercenary's pleading through his ragged breathing, Calvin lifted the mercenary up, and threw him through a wall with a roar.

The mercenary's body smashed right through the weakened walls of the room and landed resoundingly in the living room. Breathing air in gratefully and greedily with rapid gulps, Calvin inspected his surroundings. No mercenaries appeared to be in the vicinity, which was a good thing, because that only left those upstairs, if there were any left.

And Snake, of course. The initial plan was to have both Mr Carter and him team up against the rager, but at this point in time Calvin didn't even know if Mr Carter was still alive. He looked down at his own physical state and wondered how he was going to fight in this condition.

All four limbs were covered in wounds, with his knee in particular suffering from a deep gash, with a bright scarlet liquid rolling down his knee. His arms had also sustained a stinging injury when a couple of bullets had grazed his skin. His hand then instantly went up to feel his jaw, which felt fragile and barely structured anymore. His fingers slowly crept over to his lips, where he could feel blood trickling out of his mouth.

The other hand then moved up to his neck, which felt sore and rubbery following his strangling session. Coughing out a small glob of blood, Calvin forced himself to limp out of the room. "Mr Carter!" he called out. "Mr Carter!"

There was no reply. Calvin looked at the narrow flight of stairs, which suddenly seemed a thousand times more forbidding and daunting. He checked his utility belt for whatever gadgets he still had left in his possession. A couple of smoke grenades, a stun pellet, his sonic devastator and a thermite grenade all formed the limited arsenal at his disposal.

His eyes wandered over to the last device- a project he had been working on for a while. Even though he had decided to pull out of the whole killing and fighting business, he was still very much involved in developing prototypes of groundbreaking gadgets as a warped pastime. On the rare weekend he had nothing to do, he'd go down to his equipment room with Mr Bennett and work on developing some ideas he had.

He wasn't a particularly brilliant mechanic or engineer or scientist, but some of his projects were moving closer towards completion, like the small device he now stared at. It was an EMP grenade- probably one of the first of its kind. It was unlikely that even groups like Operation Claw had a hand on weapons like that.

Which meant that he was going to have to make it the ace up his sleeve.

He scoured the ground floor, carefully peeking around corners and trying to avoid staring too long at the blood and mess which littered the floor. Amongst the slew of unconscious bodies and… corpses? There were corpses?

Man, Mr Carter was serious when he said he wasn't holding back.

Calvin noticed the sheer number of bullets which riddled the ground and even some bodies. His frantic search of the area yielded no results, but at least Mr Carter's body wasn't there… which begged the question- Where the hell was Mr Carter?

The answer could come later. Gregor's family was the priority, and to Calvin's consternation they were definitely not on the ground floor. Sighing wearily, he trudged up the stairs noisily without caring about whether they could hear him or not. It didn't matter- they'd heard the whole ruckus over the past ten minutes.

They knew he was coming.

He found himself in front of the only closed door on the second floor. A quick glance around told him that this was the only room which had the possibility of containing Snake, his lackeys and most importantly, Gregor's family.

Calvin wrapped his hand around the door handle and pulled gently. The surprisingly heavy oak door swung open pretentiously and revealed exactly what he was expecting. Snake was lounging about the room, looking extremely calm and collected. Or did he look restless? Calvin wasn't sure. Either way, he looked far from troubled.

Three mercenaries surrounded a group of four people and trained their weapons on them. Calvin quickly dissected the group of people. A fairly old man with greying hair and a haggard expression that spoke of world-weariness more than fear. A woman of similar age, probably his wife, who looked the exact opposite. Her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets, and her face gleamed brilliantly from the sheen of sweat on it. Her hands shivered uncontrollably- a picture of someone who suffered hyperthyroidism, except she probably didn't suffer from that.

She was suffering from the effects of fear in its purest and most malignant form.

Two girls sat behind them- one looked around his age, and was the classic definition of a nerd. She had thick, round spectacles and hard, fierce braces encasing her teeth. She wasn't hard to look at, she was actually quite pretty… But the look of terror on her face accentuated all her physical deficiencies. She held a paper bag in her hand, which looked like it contained something heavy and in a liquid form. He didn't have to think hard to guess what it was.

The last one was much younger, maybe… early teens? She looked less frightened than her sister, and there did seem to be the presence of curiosity in her eyes as she seemed to examine Calvin like a specimen.

His observation of Gregor's family came to an abrupt halt as Snake spoke up.

"I waited ten minutes. I'm almost disappointed."

The sound of Snake's voice almost compelled Calvin to rush forward and pummel the living daylights out of him. But remembering what happened the last time he lost his composure, he simply snarled, "Let them go."

Snake just grinned slyly and replied, "I will, if I'm given a reason to. And seeing as you look a little worse for wear, I'm about to get that reason."

Snake's serpentine nature was beginning to unnerve him already. Boy did that man live up to his name.

"I'm fine with that deal," Calvin replied stoutly. "You can have me, but swear on your life you'll let them go."

Snake ignored Calvin and turned to Gregor's family, saying, "Remember that guy I was telling you about? The one who killed Vikus? That's him."

Calvin suddenly froze as the ghostly visage of Vikus seemed to appear in the window behind Snake, before disappearing ominously. "That was your fault," Calvin said through gritted teeth. "You were the one that killed him."

"Keep telling yourself that," Snake responded dismissively.

The younger girl suddenly blabbered out, "Where's Gregor? Have you seen him?"

"I have," Calvin replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. "And you'll see him for yourself soon."

"How optimistic," Snake drawled, "but I highly doubt that will happen. Who knows, maybe we'll all be dead in the next half an hour. I mean, if all goes according to plan, things can still end up being quite pretty, but Calvin has a knack for messing things up."

A small globule suddenly landed on the window. Everybody swivelled round to face it, and Snake murmured, "That looks famil-"

He was interrupted as the window exploded and shards of glass hailed down on everyone, prompting screams from the family. Calvin glanced back at the window to see Mr Carter's body soaring right into the room. He landed unceremoniously, but instantly sprang to his feet and slammed into Snake, pinning Snake to the wall.

"Dodge this, you son of a bitch,' he growled, jamming a pistol into Snake's throat and tightening his finger around the trigger.

"DON'T!" Calvin yelled desperately.

* * *

 **And we're done for this chapter! Hopefully you enjoyed it, as it once again showcased the more tactical side to Calvin's fighting, which I feel juxtaposes very nicely with the more rampant fighting style of Gregor. I know a few readers like TheGreatAthlon5 who prefer that fighting style, so hopefully you liked this chapter. And uh, sorry for the super long author's note at the start of this chapter. I just had a lot to say.**

 **Favourites and follows are always appreciated, and reviews are encouraged! Even if they break my heart again, I really don't mind.**

 **Question: What do you think Mr Carter will do, and do you think Calvin was right to ask him to spare Snake's life? Finally, predict what is going to happen in the next chapter!**


	18. Chapter 18: The Serpent

**Hi everyone! Can't say I'm happy with the lack of reviews, but hopefully your schedule lightens up, cos I'm sure most of you guys have become really busy. Anyway, thanks to the following people who reviewed my story: BlackWolfUnder, FierceDeity24, A happy reader, DeathDrayanD, THExPOTxHEAD, TheGreatAthlon5, TH3 EL3CTR1C(nice to finally hear from you!) and BryceSyce.**

 **This chapter could get a little dark and brutal, depending on your tolerance level. If you think you might not be able to handle it, please skip all the way to the bottom, where I have written a very brief summary on this chapter. This is in light of criticism that my story could be too dark for readers.**

 **Oh, there's a line in this chapter which was previewed in my** _ **Regalian Bloodbath**_ **acknowledgments. Can you spot it?**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: The Serpent**

Mr Carter hesitated for a split second.

"He deserves to die, Calvin," Mr Carter said through gritted teeth. "Of all the people in this world he deserves it the most."

"We can't," Calvin choked out, his voice layered with emotion. "My dad wouldn't want it. We can't be like them."

Calvin could see the conflict on Mr Carter's face as he grappled with the decision to pull the trigger. In the meantime, Snake's other mercenaries trained their weapons on Mr Carter. "Give us the order and we'll fire, sir," one mercenary said.

"There'll be no need for that," Snake replied calmly, "as long as dear Mr Carter chooses to get up and leave. This isn't his fight, after all."

"It is," Mr Carter snarled, "because all that stands between you and the loss of four innocent lives is me. So these are my conditions, _Snake_. You and your lackeys can leave with all your weapons. I'll spare your miserable, pathetic lives and the only thing you'd have lost is your own sense of dignity and pride."

Snake began to guffaw uproariously, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. Tears of amusement began to crawl down his scarred face, and his body trembled violently from the seismic waves of laughter that rippled throughout it.

"What's so funny?" Mr Carter growled.

Snake's chilling laughter came to a jarring halt, and the twisted grin on his face disappeared just as quickly. He looked up at Mr Carter and replied, "You think you're in a position to make a deal with me."

"I am," Mr Carter replied confidently.

Snake's hand suddenly shot up and gripped Mr Carter's wrist. He then shifted Mr Carter's wrist to his right as Mr Carter pulled the trigger, sending bullets flying all over the place. Panicked gasps rose from the family as the mercenaries surrounding them watched on with a cold detachment to the proceedings.

Calvin rushed forward, but the mercenaries suddenly turned to face him and aimed right at his chest, forcing him to halt his charge. He watched on helplessly as Snake slowly overpowered Mr Carter, using sheer brute strength to keep Mr Carter's arm at bay.

Suddenly, Snake pulled out a knife and jabbed it violently into Mr Carter's stomach, causing the older man to inhale sharply and stumble backwards, dropping his gun at the same time.

"MR CARTER!" Calvin screamed in horror.

Mr Carter dropped to his knees as his breathing became heavier and more laboured. Snake glanced down nonchalantly at his bloodstained knife, before looking back up at Mr Carter. "You know I could have made it worse," he taunted cockily.

Mr Carter swore under his breath and then rose to his feet unsteadily. Calvin felt his stomach do a mini-somersault when he saw the blood oozing out of Mr Carter's injury. "Leave the boy… alone," he wheezed. "Leave the family… alone. This is between you and me."

"Noble sentiments," Snake said with mock approval, "but I think I've made it very clear. You're not the one in a position to make deals."

"What do you want, _bastard_ ," Mr Carter spat.

"A good question," Snake mused, "but it's not about what I want. It's about what needs to be done and who I need. And out of all the people in this room, I need you the least. So my deal is this- leave this place or die in front of your protégé. It's quite simple."

"Give it your best shot," Mr Carter sneered, adopting a fighting stance.

Snake sighed and tossed the knife at Mr Carter's feet. He pulled out the pistols in his belt and tossed them aside. "I want to make this as fair a fight as possible," Snake said sincerely, "so I won't use any of my guns or my equipment. I'll even give you the knife to compensate for that injury in your stomach."

Mr Carter kicked at the knife, sending it skidding out of the room. "I'll beat you to death myself," he retorted.

Snake gestured in Calvin's direction, and before Calvin was aware of anything, he was struck in the back of the head. Yelling in pain, he dropped to his knees, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around his body and put him in a lock. He thrashed about fiercely, but the pair of arms were keeping him held in position. "Make sure he stays that way," Snake said to the mercenary who had surprised Calvin from behind.

Snake then turned to the other mercenaries and said, "Escort the family out of the room for now. I don't want them to be traumatised from this. Their trauma will come later."

They obediently hauled the family members onto their feet, and shoved them out of the room roughly. Calvin tried once more to wriggle his way out of his predicament, but the man's arms might as well have been iron chains. Calvin was locked in position.

Snake raised his arms and exposed himself, provoking Mr Carter to attack. But the weathered old man was far too experienced to be baited. Despite the evident pain from his injury, he moved across the room nimbly, observing Snake closely.

Snake made the first move. He lashed out with a right hook towards Mr Carter's face, which Mr Carter blocked firmly. He then followed up with a swing at Mr Carter's ribs, forcing the older man to block the strike awkwardly.

Snake then launched a burst of short, quick punches, hitting Mr Carter's sides several times, before firing a punch at Mr Carter's throat. The old man gagged slightly as he stumbled backwards, but Snake wasn't going to let pity get in his way. He grabbed Mr Carter by the throat, lifted him up in the air and slammed him against the wall.

Mr Carter retaliated by kicking out with both his legs, which crashed into Snake's chest and sent the mercenary flying back. Mr Carter dropped to the ground, clearly winded within the first few seconds of fighting. Calvin couldn't help but grimace when he saw his former mentor spit blood out of his mouth.

This was worse than any kind of physical torture Calvin had been on the receiving end of. Mr Carter didn't stand even the slightest sliver of a chance against Snake in a fight. Mr Carter was an aged fighter who wasn't even close to his peak abilities.

Snake was a rager.

Mr Carter rushed forward and threw a couple of wild punches at Snake, who brought his arms up and blocked most of them. Snake suddenly countered Mr Carter's attack with a string of ruthless punches, all delivered to crucial nerve points of Mr Carter's body. Calvin could barely see where the blows were landing- they were a complete blur to him.

Mr Carter staggered back, struggling to stay upright. He planted his two feet firmly to the ground, trying to root himself in position. But Snake didn't give him a chance to. The mercenary rammed his fist into Mr Carter, causing him to double over in pain. Snake then brought his knee up, slamming it into Mr Carter's forehead and sending him flying back into the wall.

"I read your file," Snake said, striding forward measuredly. "I must say I was quite impressed, _Michael Harris_."

"Don't… you dare… call me that," Mr Carter croaked out, trying and failing to get back up.

"Why not?" Snake asked with a sadistic grin. "Before people die, they should always open up to seek redemption for their sins. And you, my friend, have many sins."

"I've paid my debt in full," Mr Carter spat.

"What, through training dear Calvin over here?" Snake almost giggled. "That's not redemption, Harris. You dragged a young kid into our world. That's another sin on your part."

That line was enough to crush Mr Carter's spirit completely. He gazed sadly up at Calvin, and with regret lining his eyes with tears, he said, "I'm sorry for all of this."

"Don't listen to him!" Calvin exclaimed agitatedly. "Get up and fight him! He's trying to manipulate you!"

"If only I could show Calvin your history in Nepal," Snake cackled. "I don't think he'd see you in the same light anymore, especially when considering who you worked for, _Harris_."

The mention of his real name seemed to anger Mr Carter into action. He got to his feet, and with an almost guttural roar, swung another right hook at Snake's face.

But once again, Snake caught the fist. Calvin's heart wailed when he saw the desperation and defeat etched on Mr Carter's face. Snake grinned again and yanked hard on Mr Carter's arm, sending Mr Carter flying off his feet towards Snake's fist.

Snake delivered a brutal punch to Mr Carter's jaw, which sent the older man rolling across the floor in agony. At this point in time, Snake was just toying with Mr Carter, like a rag doll in the middle of a hungry tornado. The mercenary walked forward and swung his foot, kicking Mr Carter hard in the ribs. Calvin closed his eyes and only heard a sickening crunch. It was painful enough to see your former mentor fighting at this age, but it was just sheer anguish to see him get beaten to a pulp by an invincible opponent.

And still Mr Carter got to his feet through dogged determination and fighting spirit. Snake raised an eyebrow in surprise and even mumbled, "Admirable."

Mr Carter bellowed and limped forward as quickly as he could to take Snake on. But Snake was done playing with his food. He ducked underneath Mr Carter's punches, before delivering a vicious kick to Mr Carter's knee. Mr Carter collapsed to the ground, incapacitated by Snake's blow.

Snake then brought his elbow down on the back of Mr Carter's neck twice, both resulting in gut-churning cracks. Mr Carter's expression suddenly froze in horror, and he gasped in shock. His body seemed to stiffen and become rigid, as if…

As if…

He was paralysed.

Mr Carter's body teetered backwards and landed with an unceremonious thud, with the only movement visible on his body being a slight spasm in certain areas. Mr Carter was well and truly incapacitated, possibly for the rest of his life.

"I don't actually know whether you can hear me or not," Snake wondered out loud, "but I'll just say it anyway. I could leave you lying there, paralysed, for the rest of your meaningless life. You'd have no chance of recovering, and you'd just remain on a bed, rotting away as you should."

"You piece of shit!" Calvin yelled, struggling harder and harder against his captive. "YOU'LL GO TO HELL! YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!"

Snake ignored Calvin's hysterical shouting and walked over to his bloodstained knife, unperturbed by everything going on around him. He picked the knife up and twirled it about, inching closer and closer to Mr Carter's body. After what felt like an eternity, he positioned himself over Mr Carter triumphantly.

"But I am merciful," Snake declared. "I gave Richard Oberton a chance, and did the same for his son. I gave you a chance too. You see, I've tried to avoid killing humans, because I should save my bullets for the monsters downstairs. But some of you leave me no choice."

"DON'T!" Calvin screamed uncontrollably, tears beginning to stream down his face.

Snake glanced at Calvin with a hint of pity on his face, before turning back to look down on Mr Carter. "This is my act of mercy towards you. Goodbye, Harris," Snake said.

He then lifted the knife and plunged it down into Mr Carter's heart. His body convulsed slightly as the knife penetrated his heart, but the paralysis limited the number of reactions he could make. Calvin watched on helplessly as the life disappeared from Mr Carter's eyes and his expression became blank, devoid of any emotions.

Mr Carter was dead.

Calvin struggled to grapple with that notion in his head. Everything appeared so surreal to him. Snake suddenly seemed miles away and his head became light with disbelief. He looked down at Mr Carter's body, feeling and hoping that he was stuck in some dream-like state, where nothing was real. He closed his eyes, hoping to wake up.

He never did.

When he opened his eyes, Mr Carter's body was still lying there, motionless. The disbelief slowly deteriorated into despair, as Calvin tried to will Mr Carter to get back up onto his feet. The world couldn't be that cruel… It couldn't take so many people he loved away from him.

But it was cruel, and today was another heartbreaking demonstration of how merciless it was. Mr Carter's outline became a blur, as tears marred his line of vision. Images began to float about in the air- his mother's coffin, his father's body, Erik being bitten by Flavius, Vikus' face when the bullet flew right through his heart, Mareth's…

Too many images.

Too much pain.

Unleashing the most desperate, thunderous roar he had ever belted out, he broke free from the arm lock he was in through sheer strength, and spun around to face his captive. He pulled out a gun, but with lightning fast reflexes Calvin grabbed the man's wrist and twisted hard, breaking it in one movement.

Ignoring his cries of pain and pleas for mercy, Calvin kicked the man in the groin, before hitting his jaw twice with a left hook and a right hook. The man fell backwards from the shock and impact of the blows, but Calvin was long past caring. He jumped in the air and landed down on the man's ribs, creating a brutal cracking sound.

The man howled in pain but again, Calvin shut his conscience out. He pummeled the man's face, hitting with his right, then his left, then his right, then his left, then his right, then his left…

He rained down each and every punch with every last ounce of anger he possessed. The man's face was a bloody pulp, with his nose completely broken and most of his teeth knocked out. Calvin's own knuckles were bleeding from being cut by the man's teeth, but he didn't care.

The world hadn't cared for him, after all.

Calvin picked up the man's gun and fired a bullet into each leg, but this time the man didn't scream. He had been knocked into oblivion and probably couldn't feel the pain. Calvin trained the weapon on the man's head, tightening his finger around the trigger.

"Do it," Snake urged him.

Calvin suddenly stopped stone cold. What the hell was he doing? Here he was, doing everything he had sworn off in the name of peace and justice. No guns and…

No killing.

 _We can't. My dad wouldn't want it. We can't be like them._

The reason why Mr Carter was dead was because of Calvin's mule-like stubbornness to follow his own damn principles. Growling in frustration, Calvin spun back around and aimed his gun at Snake. "There is nobody around to kill except for me," Snake tempted him. "There will be no collateral damage. It's just me you have to kill."

Calvin's hands began to tremble as he stared at Snake. This was the man who murdered his father and now murdered Mr Carter. The only thing stopping Calvin from claiming his vengeance was the memory of Vikus' body.

But this time, there was nobody around.

This time, he was free to kill Snake.

Now his entire body trembled from tension, conflict and even excitement. This was the moment presented on a golden platter. This was the moment he had waited for and seen in the most vivid dreams he had. This was the moment when he could tip the scales of justice back to where it belonged. Vengeance was different from justice? What a blatant lie. Vengeance and justice were one and the same, except one tried to sugarcoat the truth, while the other displayed the cold, harsh reality of the world they lived in.

But as tempted as Calvin was to pull the trigger and right the wrongs he had suffered, he just couldn't do it. Even though it was this very hesitation that led to Mr Carter's death, he just couldn't do it. Even though he was being given an opportunity to kill the one man who had ruined Calvin's life…

He just couldn't do it.

Because even though there was nobody around to serve as collateral damage, it'd betray everything Calvin ever stood for. In a world where there was so little good, he had to be that beacon of hope. He had to do the right thing.

And killing Snake wasn't the right thing.

With tears falling from his eyes, he tossed the gun aside. With the tears continuing to fall freely, he said to Snake, "I'm not like _you_."

"A pity," Snake replied. "I was hoping you'd do it."

Calvin didn't waste any more time talking to Snake. He tossed a smoke grenade onto the floor, and immediately a wall of smoke separated the both of them. Despite his vision being clouded, Calvin was able to make his way out of the room with minimal difficulty.

He began to wander about the corridors, which were now suffocated with smoke. He heard the slightest sound of muffling from one of the rooms and immediately tossed his thermite grenade at the door. A loud explosion followed as a hole was blown in the door. Calvin shifted through the hole and found himself facing the three mercenaries again, with the family standing behind them.

Calvin was just about to toss his final smoke grenade to distract them, when suddenly a force yanked him backwards and sent him crashing against the wall. The air was punctuated by more screaming, although it appeared so distant to Calvin. Stars seemed to flicker and wink at him from a faraway land…

Suddenly, Snake's hand shot out from the smoke and gripped hold of his shoulder. Calvin shrugged the hand off and threw a wild punch aimlessly, which predictably amounted to nothing. Snake's massive frame suddenly cut through the billowing smoke, appearing more imposing and demonic as ever before.

He got back up onto his feet, but he might as well have continued to remain in his slumped position. Snake grabbed Calvin's head and slammed it into the wall. The sheer force from the blow was nearly enough to send Calvin spiralling into complete darkness, but Calvin was somehow able to maintain his consciousness.

He grabbed his last stun pellet and threw it straight at Snake, but the mercenary's rager reactions aided him in diving out of the way just in time. Calvin closed his eyes and covered his ear as a deafening explosion rocked the house. Calvin opened his eyes after counting to five. The fierce glare greeted him, but Calvin was just about able to squint and see vague outline of the objects in front of him. Amidst the chaos and wreckage in front of him, Calvin just about caught sight of Snake's rising figure.

Hoping to capitalise on Snake's temporary deafness, Calvin rushed forward and swung his foot. But before Calvin could feel his foot connecting with Snake's body, he felt it snagged by something.

He looked down, and to his utter astonishment….

Snake had caught his leg.

The mercenary got up and flipped Calvin over, before throwing Calvin's body down the stairs. Calvin's whole world rocked and spun upside down as he tumbled down the stairs. He landed with an unceremonious and painful thud on the ground. Groaning in pain, Calvin pushed himself up for a split second, but he crashed back down right after that.

His head felt heavy and… wet. Calvin's hand instantly went up to feel his forehead, and when he looked back at his hand, it was stained a bright ruby red. Realising how battered his body felt, Calvin closed his eyes and summoned an image from the past…

An image of his dad and him on the beach.

Channeling the inspiration from looking at that image into his bones, he felt adrenaline making a last-ditch attempt to course through his veins and revitalise him. Calvin straightened his back and looked up at the once forbidding stairs. He took in a deep breath and focused. Calvin was ready for whatever and whoever came down those stairs.

Suddenly, the ceiling above him exploded and rubble rained down on him, forcing him to raise his arms to shelter his bruised and bloodied head. A figure landed down right next to him and swung a punch at his ribs. Calvin gasped as he felt his ribs flex inwards for a second. Dropping to one knee, he panicked and began to hyperventilate like a vulnerable, cornered animal.

A boot suddenly met his jaw, sending him hurtling backwards. He crashed into a cupboard, causing it to teeter over and crash into the ground. The sound of glass breaking seemed to shred his ear through sheer volume, almost as if he had been cut by the glass itself. Calvin heaved himself up and reacted just in time to block a swing from Snake, but Snake's other fist came out of nowhere, hitting him between the eyes.

Despite his world threatening to envelop him in darkness, Calvin warded off the overwhelming pain and stood his ground, facing Snake. Snake shot him a grin which spoke of approval more than anything else. "You have courage and fortitude I haven't seen in anybody for a very long time," Snake told him.

"Not surprising," Calvin retorted. "You spend your time with scumbags who behave just like you do."

"I've told you this before," Snake said, backing away a few steps. "We aren't all bad people, and neither are all your friends good people. There hasn't been black and white in this world since its existence, Calvin."

"Looks real black and white to me right now," Calvin replied bitterly.

Before Snake could respond to Calvin's statement, Calvin grabbed a shard of glass and threw it at Snake. The mercenary dodged the sharp projectile with smooth ease, but the purpose of the projectile wasn't to injure Snake- it was to distract him.

Calvin launched a flying kick at Snake's face, who reacted just in time to swat Calvin's legs aside. Calvin landed on his back, but he quickly scrambled back to his feet and charged headfirst at Snake. Snake easily sidestepped the attack and pulled out a small weapon, which Calvin quickly identified was a taser.

Sensing an opportunity, Calvin quickly tossed his EMP grenade at Snake, causing a bright blast in the room. The lights above them went out like a whiff of flame devoured by the wind, and other electronic equipment in the room like fans came to an abrupt halt. Through the light filtering in from the outside, Calvin could see Snake's bulky figure trying to activate his taser, but to no avail.

"You have an EMP grenade," Snake concluded, a hint of surprise intruding in his tone. "But it doesn't matter. We'll just have to do things the old way."

Appearing even more menacing in the limited light that fell on him, he pulled out a gleaming knife and twirled it the way he had before killing Mr Carter. But instead of gripping it properly, he allowed it to slip out of his grasp and land on the floor, with the clattering sound reverberating around the room ominously. "I don't need it to beat you," Snake explained unconcernedly.

Calvin immediately tried to linger in the shadows, but there was too much light entering the room. His stealth training would end up being irrelevant. Nevertheless, he backed away from the light and tried to hide behind the fridge to plan a surprise attack.

But Snake picked up an obscure object on the floor and hurled it at Calvin. The object, which turned out to be a doll, struck Calvin's right shoulder, and while it didn't hurt, it sent a clear message to him.

Snake could see him in the dark.

Calvin sprinted forward and found himself locked in a brutal fistfight with Snake. Every punch he made was deliberate and brimming with the anger that fuelled him. But Snake was too fast, dodging the blows or blocking them, before occasionally firing an unblockable punch at Calvin's ribs.

The multiple blows that struck Calvin's ribs caused his focus to slowly ebb away, but through sheer determination Calvin continued the ceaseless onslaught on Snake. Through the intense fighting, Calvin instinctively decided to pull off a feint, aiming for Snake's side before firing a punch at Snake's solar plexus. He knew it was going to be a fruitless move, because Snake was a rager. He could have blocked the attack with his eyes closed.

But Calvin's arm somehow penetrated Snake's impervious defence and went right through to hit Snake's solar plexus. The mercenary stumbled back from a combination of shock and pain. His right hand immediately went up to feel the solar plexus. The slight grimace on his face told Calvin that he had hurt Snake. It was probably just a bruise, but Snake had been hurt nonetheless by a non-rager who was close to being knocked out. His pride probably hurt more than the bruise.

Snake advanced forward thunderously, kicking objects between him and Calvin. Calvin threw another punch, which Snake caught for the umpteenth time. He violently flung Calvin across the room, with Calvin eventually crashing against a crumbling wall. Snake calmly walked up to him and hurled another punch, which sent Calvin crashing right _through_ the wall.

Gagging from the dust particles which suffocated him, Calvin looked on helplessly as Snake grabbed a plate and threw it at him. Calvin rolled to the side to avoid being hit by the plate, and grabbed hold of a chair to help himself up.

He randomly groped about the table, and to his surprise found himself holding an old baseball bat. Snake rushed forward to tackle Calvin, but Calvin improvised with the limited space he had and jabbed the bat at Snake's throat, catching the mercenary off-guard and causing him to choke from the blow.

Calvin tried to swing the bat down on Snake's head, but the mercenary brought his two arms up and shielded himself. Calvin then pounced on the gap created to swing the baseball bat at Snake's ribs. The bat connected with a savage cracking noise, which made Calvin wonder whether the cracking came from Snake's ribs or the bat.

The mercenary staggered about, clutching his stomach in pain. Calvin afforded himself a slight smile. The rager was being schooled and outfought by the average kid. Calvin charged forward and continued to swing furiously, trying to hit Snake as many times and as hard as possible.

But with blinding speed, Snake's hand shot out and snatched the baseball bat from Calvin, before breaking it in half. Calvin stared at the scene in front of him, completely dazed and out of ideas. The only reason Calvin had been able to hurt Snake was because the mercenary had let his own pride get the better of him. That pride was now long gone, and replaced by a much more frightening source of fuel-

Anger.

Snake stabbed one half of the broken baseball bat at Calvin, with Calvin narrowly evading the vicious attack. But he was unable to avoid the second thrust, with the splinters from the bat tearing through the skin on Calvin's left arm.

Snake then rammed a kick at Calvin's stomach, which made Calvin double over in pain. Snake began to fire punches at Calvin's chest area, with every punch feeling like a bullet hammering hard through his vital organs. Calvin began to spew out blood uncontrollably, but Snake was beyond caring about Calvin's wellbeing.

After what seemed like centuries of pummeling Calvin, he fired an elbow at Calvin's jaw. The impact created a resounding whump which echoed throughout the room. Calvin suddenly felt his jaw slackening, and immediately brought his hand up to feel it. It was bleeding for sure, but it seemed to… weigh down on his face.

Snake had fractured his jaw. As the pain hit him like a tidal wave, Calvin couldn't help but release a muffled scream that was softer than the whump created from the blow. He tried to move his jaw, but it seemed to swing about slightly, like an aging pendulum.

"You fought well," Snake admitted. "But it felt more like a sparring session."

Calvin tried one last-gasp attack, but Snake delivered a heavy blow to Calvin's chest. The air rushed out of Calvin's lungs and he found himself struggling to breathe. Snake looked unfazed by how he had pretty much crippled Calvin, and merely took a step back to survey his work.

Calvin tried to lift his arm, but there was no strength and energy left in his limbs. The adrenaline had failed and betrayed him when it mattered most. Grinning from ear to ear, Snake grabbed Calvin by the throat and wordlessly hurled him at the window.

Calvin's body crashed through the window and landed on the emerald green grass. It served as a cushion for him, but a cushion could only protect him so much. Within a minute, Snake's lackeys had surrounded him along with the leader himself. They goaded and mocked him, but Calvin could barely hear them.

Tears welled up in his eyes when they brought Mr Carter's body to the stream nearby and tossed it in. The stream barely supported his body, but still managed to carry him into the distance, to a place Calvin didn't know or want to know.

"We still have to bait one more man," Snake announced. "Jim, you and Ben will carry the turd to the base downstairs. I'll meet you there shortly."

"Sir, will you be joining us to fight Walker?" the mercenary asked.

"No. I've got an appointment with Oberton," Snake said slyly. The mercenaries sniggered in response, but one raised his hand.

"Sir, Walker is a rager."

"You have guns," Snake snorted. "He does not. If you don't kill him, then you might as well be dead. If this fails, you all will have hell to pay."

Realising what was going on, Calvin subtly let his tracing machine slip out of his belt onto the ground. It was a tiny device, but hopefully Gregor would be sharp enough to spot it and hunt him down. Calvin then activated one of the tracers on him, while Snake and the other mercenaries deliberated. Hopefully it would help Gregor find him and Snake.

As the mercenaries picked him up, Calvin gaze longingly at the rushing stream. Even though his jaw couldn't move, he still persevered through the burning pain to utter three words.

"Sorry, Mr Carter."

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter! Hopefully you found it exciting and heartbreaking. For those who decided to skip to the bottom, this is basically what happens: Snake kills Mr Carter and defeats Calvin, and while some of his mercenaries drag Calvin down to the Underland, the rest stay above ground to fight Gregor when he comes round.**

 **Favourites and follows are appreciated. Please review!**

 **Question: Why do you think Snake spared Calvin's life? And what is the most heartbreaking chapter in my series so far? Answer the questions in your reviews.**


	19. Chapter 19: Surrendering to Regalia

**Hello everyone! I'm so very very sorry for not updating my story sooner. I flew all the way to China for a couple of weeks, and Google isn't available there (VPN didn't seem to work either). I've been through a really difficult time lately and I might as well divulge what's going on with me to you.**

 **My father happens to have cancer, and so my life has been really stressful as I have to take care of him and the family. It's really killed me and I'm so frickin' exhausted, so… Yea, please understand why I updated this so late.**

 **Anyway, I have a request to make. I encourage all kinds of reviews, even negative ones. But if you are going to post a negative review, please remember to add suggestions and say SPECIFICALLY what exactly you are unhappy with. Otherwise that review is pointless to you and me since I won't be able to improve.**

 **Thank you to the following people who reviewed my story in my absence… So many new names! Here goes: THExPOTxHEAD, Clytuis, A happy reader, DeathDrayanD, BryceSyce, NoahTheOverlander, Thatoneguy25, Dragons boy, BlackWolfUnder, pyro159, phantom1299, Reader, TH3 EL3TR1C, HumanicHedgeHog, koipbuiop(welcome!), Footballstar24(welcome!), brandoncreel16(welcome!), ImBlu(welcome!) and Randonfire.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Surrendering to Regalia**

The gasps of incredulity were quickly peppered by fierce arguments erupting within atomised sections in the crowd. Within minutes, the aggression became contagious and everybody was embroiled in fierce discussions over Gregor's fate. The Council members looked disconcerted and slightly shaken themselves, almost as if they're own words haunted them. The dilemma facing the city was turning it against each other.

Gregor just stared ahead blankly, trying to process the revelation on a Biblical scale. But no matter how much he tried to keep calm and think rationally, he still couldn't organize the messy whirlwind that spun about in his head. He was fundamentally being asked to walk like the messianic lamb to a slaughter. There were just too many implications to consider, too many possible scenarios he could end up in, too many…

Gregor inhaled and exhaled the way Lizzie did when she was nervous, trying to maintain a sense of balance as his mind precariously dangled over the dark hole of insanity. Everything around him seemed so distant, so insignificant, so irrelevant- everything seemed to be a complete blur to him.

Familiar faces greeted his narrowed vision, but he only had eyes for one person in the Council hall, and she was staring right back at him. Luxa's cold and indifferent demeanour when speaking to him earlier appeared to remain, but while her body language told him one story, her eyes told him another.

She was just as frightened as he was.

That hardly provided any kind of soothing comfort in the pandemonium swirling around him, but it did give him a glimmer of hope. At least he knew that she still cared for him in some capacity, whether it was just slight affection or more.

"SILENCE!" Daedalus boomed once more. "Warrior, do you have any comments to add?"

Gregor silently pondered over the predicament he was in and realised how massive the eventual decision would be. Mathematically, it made sense for Regalia to toss him out to the wolves, or in this case the gnawers, in exchange for over a hundred innocent lives.

For a couple of seconds, Gregor felt angry at how the Council was attempting to approach this dilemma. To them, people were consumable objects with stipulated values on them. To them, it was an economic trade to see whether there was profit gain or loss. They were essentially dehumanising Gregor and the hostages, something which Gregor absolutely hated. Back in the Overland, people were milked for profit and were discarded once they lost their value. And while this wasn't exactly the same scenario in Regalia, the approach to treating the people was identical.

But Gregor realised the burden didn't just rest on his shoulders, but on the Council's shoulders too. Even Luxa seemed to scream quietly of how despondent she was feeling, which was incredibly rare considering how she often walled up her emotions in the public eye. This decision would change the future of Regalia, for better or worse.

"Warrior?" Daedalus prompted, startling Gregor out of his anxiety.

He stood up, shaking a little nervously, and said, "Perhaps we should let the people decide."

Daedalus nodded in approval, before turning to the people. "How many among you would exchange the Warrior for the hostages?"

The crowd seemed to shudder collectively- the thought of having to choose between sacrificing an iconic legend or their own brethren was clearly revolting to them. Confused and pained glances were exchanged. Impassioned pleas and foul profanities somehow complemented each other in this thriving turmoil. The rats quickly huddled together closely, trying to avoid meeting the hateful stares aimed straight at them.

"All who wish for the Warrior to be sacrificed," Daedalus said impatiently, clearly irked by the unusual indecisiveness of the fickle crowd, "please say 'aye'."

A slightly muted but decisive 'aye' echoed around the hall, causing Gregor's already grieving heart to ache even more. Every noise made in favour of his sacrifice was a dagger thudding right into the core of his heart. Even though he understood this was their decision to make, even though he understood this city belonged to the people who built it, he still felt betrayed. For all the times he wept and spilled his own blood, for every last ounce of strength he had devoted to this city even when he had close to nothing left to give…

It still wasn't enough for these people. Every 'aye' that resounded through this hall denied the real sacrifices he had made for Regalia. He had relinquished his own freedom in exchange for being rejected by the people he had come to call his own.

But he understood. He understood that to them, he was still an alien, or an immigrant, or a fallen angel who didn't belong with them. He was a commodity to be spent in order to buy this city a little more time to exist, and now that his value was gone he was to be tossed aside. To them, he was merely a fruit peel now that the flesh of the fruit was consumed.

And yet he didn't feel angry. He was more heartbroken than furious, because the soul-crushing despair of having been abandoned by the city he loved pretty much wiped out all hope he had left. He stared up at the Council, waiting for their verdict.

Daedalus didn't seem entirely convinced by the response. "Now all those in favour of keeping the Warrior in Regalia," he boomed, "say 'aye'."

To Gregor's pleasant surprise, a similarly decisive 'aye' answered Daedalus' question. There was a period of stunned silence from the dissenters, before intense discussions burst out in the hall.

The whole hall was now buzzing with confusion and frustration. In Gregor's last couple of years living as an Underlander, no decision had ever been met with such polarising opinions from the people. This was set to be easily the most divisive verdict in recent history.

And of course, it had to revolve around the Underland's most popular hero.

Stellovet's ostensible remarks about Gregor's relationship with her and his own personal duel with Ripred might have undermined some trust, but the thunderous noise in the arena suggested that deep down, the people were still fiercely loyal to him. They saw him as a deity, the greatest individual since Sandwich, a God who had come to be their Saviour and Redeemer.

Gregor found that mildly amusing, because back in the Overland he was just another living and breathing human, who followed through the well-traversed course of life. In the Overland, no one would remember him twenty or thirty years after he was placed six feet under.

Gregor turned his attention back to the Council, who looked deeply disturbed and bewildered by the turn of events. Finally, after a moment of deliberation, Heronian looked up and said, "It appears that the proposed system of… democracy, has failed us. Perhaps we, as the Council, should make this decision on behalf of the people. And as usual, the Queen will have the final say."

"I would advise against that."

Everybody in the hall froze, including Gregor. He slowly turned towards the doorway into the Council hall, dreading the moment he would have to look the old rat in the eyes.

Ripred limped forward, nodding politely at a couple of friends and generals in the crowd, before bowing towards the Council. The whole time he walked at an angle, so part of his face was obscured from Gregor's sight. A couple of people gasped but quickly shut up when Ripred glanced at them. The fraught silence stiffened the already palpable tension that entwined itself around every member in the hall.

"Ripred, I-" Gregor began.

Ripred turned to face Gregor, and the sight of his face made Gregor take an involuntary step back.

The old rat's face was covered in scars from his battle with Gregor. His snout looked slightly crooked, and his lip had a deep gash. He was clearly nursing a number of broken bones, and the rest of his body clearly fared no better. Numerous cuts and bruises were visible even from a mile away. But there was one detail that sent a shiver down his spine and chilled his blood.

Ripred stared at Gregor with only one eye. The other eye just stared in his general direction, lifeless and without the familiar edge Gregor usually saw in it.

Gregor expected to see hatred and bitterness in Ripred's one living eye, but he was surprised to see that it screamed of curiosity more than any other emotion. The regret that now gripped him was now unbearably awful.

"Ripred," Gregor croaked out loud so that most people in the hall could hear him, "I'm sorry."

"All is forgiven," Ripred said bluntly. His laconic response suggested his own discomfort with discussing the topic, especially in the public eye.

The old rat turned to face the Council again. "You cannot make this decision for him. No man's life deserves to lie in the hands of a few who consider themselves superior."

"Every man's life has been placed in the hands of the Council since the inception of Regalia," one Council member replied dismissively. "Why should we make an exception for the Warrior? Besides, Lord Ripred, you should be the last one to school us on such matters, considering your _decorated_ history."

"Empires and great kingdoms have fallen because they followed the rules of the past," Ripred argued. "I've made my mistakes and learned them. The question, dear Council, is have you?"

"Careful, Lord Ripred," Daedalus cautioned him. "You may want to watch what you are suggesting."

"I suggest nothing," Ripred replied, appearing to be abnormally quiet and reserved, "except that the Warrior isn't an item for you to exchange at your own will."

"You have no right to tell us what to do with the Warrior!" Heronian hissed. "You have manipulated him since he was a child, Lord Ripred. Your hypocrisy is astounding even when considering your usual standards of irreverence to this Council."

Gregor saw a flicker of burning anger light up for a split second on Ripred's eyes, but his shoulders sagged and he backed off respectfully. "So be it," he mumbled softly.

"Lord Ripred's right!" a flier yelled at the Council. "You have no right to dictate what happens to the Warrior!"

Similar sentiments followed suit and were echoed across the hallowed hall in yet another blur of frenzied voices. One man even stood up, grabbed another man by his throat and began to throttle him out of anger. The neutral tone in everybody's voices suddenly ascended into aggressiveness, as small scuffles began to break out across the hall.

The Council began hollering at the Regalians, but unbridled chaos was already flowing freely throughout the hall, and words from the Council couldn't halt its continual rise. Luxa tried desperately to gain their attention, but to her despair, her voice was drowned out by the deafening roars of angry men, women and children. Ripred merely stared at the scene solemnly, his grim expression failing to hide the disappointment scribbled across his scarred face.

The rats quickly huddled together, trying to avoid meeting the cold, resentful stares that bore right through them. Gregor's heart broke even more as he saw a couple of baby rats glancing around them in fear. They didn't deserve to be treated like this- they'd done nothing. And yet the black sheep in the herd had turned everyone else into a wolf, waiting to sink their fangs into the innocent.

One human drew his sword and swung it at a rat, forcing the rat to dash towards the huddle and squeeze himself amongst his brethren. "NEVER TRUST A GNAWER!" the man bellowed, as a group of humans unsheathed their weapons and surrounded the rats…

"ENOUGH!" Gregor roared, his voice thundering above everybody else's. The hall seemed to rumble, as if the very walls themselves were aware they were in the presence of the god of Regalia. Everybody turned to look at him, shocked by his sudden intrusion into the orderly pandemonium.

"I'll go," Gregor told the Council. "None of you will have to make a choice. Give my life to them for the life of the hostages."

"Don't do this, you fool," Ripred snarled at him. "Do you-"

"It's not your decision to make," Gregor shut Ripred down. "I've made my decision… and I'll stand by it."

Shock registered on close to everyone's face, which emanated from Gregor's controversial decision. Their god had decided to give up his life for one hundred meaningless, insignificant humans… Of course they'd be shocked.

It was a little ironic, considering how willing they were to sacrifice him in the past. They'd left him a victim to a prophecy and a victim to public opinion so that they could delay their imminent destruction. Perhaps they were shocked because his sacrifice wasn't a decision they made this time.

All empires fall eventually, but this city would endure for years to come, thanks to the son of the sun.

"Take him into custody," Daedalus mumbled softly. He didn't have to speak up for every corner of the vast hall to hear every word escaping his lips or every inflection in his despondent tone. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that engulfed the hall.

Two guards came up and gripped Gregor's arms firmly but gently, before leading him out of the hall, which could have been mistaken for a graveyard to a blind man. Every step echoed momentously throughout the hall, as if these steps meant more than the millions of others Gregor had taken in his life.

The moment he stepped out of the hall, the guards came to an abrupt halt. "Are you guys not taking me to the prison?" Gregor asked them casually.

"You're not going to stay there," one guard informed him. "And before we lead you anywhere else, it has come to our attention that someone would like to speak to you."

"Who?" Gregor asked instantly, intrigued by their evasive answers.

"Me," Luxa answered, stepping into view. She nodded at the guards, who immediately let go off Gregor and backed off. They stood in the vicinity, but made sure they were out of earshot so that the power couple of Regalia could speak privately.

Ex-couple, that is.

She turned to him and stared right at him.

He stared right back at her.

It was uncomfortable and unnerving to look someone straight in the eye. It made Gregor feel especially vulnerable because he knew he was exposing his rawest emotions to her- she could see right through any masquerade he was putting up by staring into his eyes. It was always the eyes which betrayed a person's genuine emotion. But he stared back, because as uncomfortable as it was, he wanted to let her in.

He wanted her to see he still loved her.

After what felt like millennia of looking into her eyes, he decided to break the intensity of the moment.

"I had to do it."

"Why?" she asked, still not breaking her stare.

Gregor gazed into those purple irises of hers and realised how lucky he was when he was together with her. In the last two years, it was Luxa who became his pillar of support when the very foundation of his morality was under threat.

When he began to doubt himself and the faith of the people around him, she convinced him to retain hope in Regalia and himself. She managed to fool him into believing he could redeem his own soul, even when deep down he knew each murder he committed was a mortal sin which could never be justified or forgiven.

She had single-handedly given a man damned to hell a false ideal of the goodness he thought he still had. But he wasn't upset that she had given him hope where there was none… In fact, he was grateful. Because when he nearly let go of his whole world in those dark, merciless nights, she was the guiding light who helped him stay true to the path he had set foot on.

She had illuminated his world with her light.

 _Luxa._

"I did it for you," he told her bluntly, "and Regalia. Those people are innocent. They don't deserve to suffer for what I've done."

"What do you mean?" Luxa pressed on, appearing emotionless and indifferent. Gregor knew better, though. This was her front, the facade she invented to hide her weakness by displaying her iron will in public.

"I invaded the Fount," he confessed. "I did it… I did it…"

Gregor couldn't look into her eyes anymore. He bowed his head in utter shame, furious and embarrassed that his recklessness and thrown so many people into harm's way.

"I did it cos' I wanted to prove that I'd been faithful to you, Luxa. I… I wanted to find out why Stellovet had broken us up. I didn't consider that they'd come back here for revenge."

He finally tilted his head upwards to face her once more. Her expression was just as stoic as just now, but her eyes were brimming with tears. "Gregor…" she began, and they began to fall.

They rained down and hit the ground softly, leaving their mark on the stone floor. Her face remained as tight and unfeeling as before. She didn't bother to hide the little droplets that began to assault the floor beneath their feet.

They had the whole world in front of them and they stared at it as it bowed to them. But when the ground beneath their feet shook, the whole world disappeared and crumbled before them. Stellovet had destroyed the last bond that kept them going as leaders and pioneers of the new age that dawned on the Underland.

"You don't have to do this," she told him. "We still need you. This city needs you."

"I don't want to answer to it anymore," he replied. "There's only one reason I still did so all these years, and I lost that reason a couple of days ago."

It was Luxa's turn to bow her head.

"I need you, Gregor."

Of all the responses Gregor had anticipated, this was the last one on his list. Stunned by that line, he shifted a little to his right and began to look around him, using the sights and sounds of Regalia to keep him grounded in reality.

 _I need you, Gregor._

"Don't surrender to the Fount, Gregor," she continued. "That's exactly what they want you to we give in to their demands-"

"I'm not surrendering to the Fount," Gregor corrected her. "I'm surrendering to Regalia. This city wants me to sacrifice myself, because the hostages are their friends and family. I'm just an Overlander to them."

"They worship you like a god," Luxa responded. "They wouldn't give up their god."

"Maybe they should," Gregor replied glumly, "because I can't be a god to them."

Luxa nodded slowly in understanding. "Do you have a plan?"

"I don't need one. I'm prepared to face the consequences. I don't care what punishment is meted out by York, as long as it appeases him. The answer to a threat shouldn't be a counter-threat. It should be peace."

"An eye for an eye makes the world go blind," Luxa recalled. "You taught me that phrase."

"Gandhi. It applies to the Underland more than ever before," Gregor replied.

"It's quite profound," Luxa said with a little hint of a smile on her lips, "which is unusual coming from you."

"Hey!" Gregor protested, "I have brains too, thank you very much."

For a moment, the two of them just chuckled. But the momentary light-heartedness gave way as a grave memory resurfaced. Gregor began to reminisce about his time with Luxa, and amongst the collection of images he had collected in his memory scrapbook, one in particular seemed to stand out, especially given the situation he was in.

A museum. A camera. A couple of smiles. A glimpse of sadness in the eyes. And yet her temple resting against his cheek, a reminder of the emotional intimacy they had achieved. A reminder of every brutal obstacle they had plowed through at the ripe old age of twelve.

A reminder of love.

"We can rely on Howard to handle the diplomacy," she suggested. "Don't throw your life away for this city or me."

"Howard can't stand up against his family," Gregor argued. "It'd be… awkward, especially for him to side with me against them."

"Then leave it to no one," Luxa pleaded.

"I can't," Gregor shook his head, before beckoning for the guards to come and escort him away. "Luxa… I don't… I don't know what will happen to me. But… if this is the last time…"

His voice broke and he couldn't put forward a coherent sentence. He was too shaken by fear and despair to organise his thoughts and his words. He could be making the long walk towards his death very soon, but that wasn't what he was frightened of. He was frightened of saying goodbye to Luxa.

A pale hand rested on his cheek and caressed it tenderly. Gregor gazed at Luxa's tear-stained face and felt his heart swell from love and sadness. "Fly you high, Gregor," she whispered.

"I love you," he whispered back, the words leaving his lips just as effortlessly as they did over a decade ago, when he thought he would never see her again. There was a sense of poetry about this moment, like fate had softened and become sentimental.

As the guards gripped his arms and led him away, Gregor could have sworn he heard Luxa whisper back,

"I love you."

* * *

"Why are we here?" Gregor asked uneasily as he stepped into the chilly air of the dark prison. The echoes that reverberated around the corridors were like a haunted choir, singing a final hymn to those who entered the forbidding, imposing monstrosity.

"The Council did not reveal this information to the public," one of the guards answered, "but you weren't the only one involved in this deal. I'm not so sure the queen knows about this either."

"What the hell is going on?" Gregor asked agitatedly as the cold air ran its fingers down the goosebumps that covered his skin.

They brought him wordlessly down the winding corridors, appearing afraid to reveal what it was that they concealed deep in the darkest reserves of their mind. Gregor thought he heard hysterical screaming coming from one of the prison cells, but knew that could just have been his imagination. But then again, who knew what unearthly souls languished in the darkest corners of this hell below earth.

And then they rounded another corner and Gregor found himself in front of a lift.

"No," Gregor said, panic starting to rise in his chest as he realised what was going on. "What the hell was the Council thinking?"

A dozen heavily armed guards stood in front of him, all looking sturdy and brave enough to tackle the evil which they were about to face head on. One look at their body language told another story, one which was a polar opposite to their own physical build. They shifted from foot to foot, glancing about nervously as if they expected the very shadows of this dungeon to spring forward and devour them.

"Let's pay him a visit," the guard to Gregor's right said calmly.

All of them got onto the lift, which barely sustained their combined weight, and yet the air around them felt heavier than it had ever been before. One of the guards pulled a lever, and the lift seemed to groan as it slowly made its way down with a series of creaking noises ensuing.

The moment they reached the bottom, about half of the heavily armed men jogged forward and drew out their weapons. The began to undo the intricate locks that bound the heavy doors in place, and quickly heaved it open to reveal the room's sole inhabitant. Gregor nearly took a step back from the blinding white which felt so striking compared to the dark, dull colours of the rest of the prison. Then his eyes rested on the figure lying prone on the floor.

Gorger's dark, malevolent eyes shifted upwards, and almost everybody reared back in fear when they saw the malice in his eyes. A cruel grin spread across his face like the bubonic plague, devouring every corner until it proudly displayed the sheer twistedness of the monster which wore it.

"Well," he said, his eerie rasp clearly underlying the excitement in his voice, "this day came faster than I expected."

"Gorger," Gregor spat, unable and unwilling to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Warrior," Gorger sneered, "I see you've been abandoned by these… ingrates."

"Give us five minutes," Gregor requested. The other guards nodded politely and began to leave the room one by one. The last one to leave handed Gregor a sword and said, "For your protection, Warrior."

Gregor nodded gratefully and patiently waited for the heavy doors to close ominously behind him. The moment the doors came to their place with a thud, he turned back to look at Gorger.

"I chose to make this sacrifice myself," Gregor retorted. "Something which you would never do for your own kind."

"Of course not!" Gorger guffawed, as if the idea Gregor had put forth was a ridiculous punchline. "Why on earth would I do that?"

When Gregor failed to provide a response, Gorger went on, "You know what's your greatest weakness, Warrior? You're a… a walking contradiction. You're a natural killer, yet you still believe in honour and valour and goodness and all the sappy shit that comes along with it. You only kill when you think it's justified. It limits your potential and makes you… one of them."

Gorger cocked his head and seemed to gesture behind Gregor, probably at the soldiers outside the cell. "They're just pawns in a game of chess," Gorger explained. "You're the… Queen? Rook? I don't know. But you've got a chance to make a big difference, except you choose not to, because of those… beliefs of yours."

"Those beliefs set me apart from scumbags like you," Gregor snarled.

"No," Gorger shook his head in disappointment, "No, they don't. They make you an idiot. Your greatest strength is your rager abilities, but you choose not to harness them because… Because you think _it's wrong_? You kill anyway, so why choose to hold back from killing Regalians?"

"They're my people," Gregor replied defiantly.

"So is Ripred," Gorger scoffed. "Do you see me giving a shit about that bastard's life? I'd kill him given the right opportunity to. And that's without even blinking, by the way."

"Are you trying to get me to kill you?" Gregor asked, genuinely confused by the point Gorger was trying to make.

"Maybe," Gorger replied with a savage smile. "If that's what it takes to help you become who you are meant to be, then yes. Please go ahead and kill me. It won't be any different from what you've done in the past. At least this time you're not killing someone's brother or father or mother."

Gregor felt his head throb as blood surged upwards within seconds. He felt a familiar pounding against his temple and his veins began to stand out as the blood coursed through his veins faster and faster and faster.

Gorger was really pissing him off.

Without any warning, Gregor hurled himself forward and slammed into Gorger, pinning the dishevelled rat against the wall. A split second later, Gregor placed his sword against the rat's jugular vein.

"You really want to die?" Gregor hissed, with his fury sizzling and boiling deep down in his gut.

"Oh yes," Gorger said, giggling away like a schoolkid. "PLEASE go ahead and do it. Become who you're meant to be. Become a real RAGER."

Gregor's flaming anger was quickly met with a blizzard of ice as a chill ran through his body. It wasn't because of what Gorger said, but what Gregor saw in his eyes. Even when he was facing death, the rat still mocked it and taunted it, as if he welcomed his own death. To Gregor's utter surprise, when he looked deep into the rat's black, beady eyes, he couldn't see a single trace of fear.

Gorger didn't fear death, even when it was staring right at him.

 _If you want to kill me, it really doesn't matter. That's the problem with you pups. All of you subconsciously believe that you are immortal and infallible, when in reality you are just as vulnerable as the rest of us. I've already accepted that my death is inevitable, whether by your hand or another. I know that one day, my name will just be a faint whisper in a light breeze floating through the Dead Lands, but it will never be anything more than that._

 _So kill me, because I truly do not care._

"Even with all those rager abilities," Gorger smirked, "you still can't do anything to frighten me."

And that frightened Gregor. The greatest strength Gregor had as a person was arguably his rager abilities, and even in a straight fight with Gorger it was irrelevant. Because even if he killed Gorger, the rat would die with a smile on his face.

The rat would still have won.

And if one argued that Gregor's greatest strength was his compassion… Well, Gorger had torn that entire idea down within a span of minutes. Somehow, even with all of Gregor's determination to make himself a better person, Gorger had found a way to crush the sense of morality he thought he had established.

Gregor would always be a murderer, no matter what he chose to do with his future.

"Kill me," Gorger almost seemed to be begging. "Let the guards outside see you for who you truly are."

Gregor lifted his blade up and stepped away from Gorger, trying hard not to gag at the stench that seemed to swirl around the rat. He smelled like he had gone for a swim in shit-infested sewers.

"We're going to go through with this deal," Gregor said firmly. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't intend to kill you."

"We'll see about that after I kill your friends," Gorger said with his trademark fiendish grin. "We'll push you to the very limit."

Gregor just glared down at the rat, who seemed so inferior to Gregor physically, when in truth one held a huge advantage over the other. Gorger had nullified his greatest strength, and probably knew Gregor's emotional Achilles heel too. Even as Gregor stood over him, he knew he was at the mercy of the most diabolical, nefarious individual in the whole of Regalia.

Gorger staggered to his feet and eyed Gregor from head to toe. "You and I made a leap together all those years ago," Gorger recalled somewhat fondly. "It's time for us to make a leap of faith again."

"I leaped," Gregor replied coldly. "You fell."

Gorger just chuckled, before saying,

"Let's see who makes it this time."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I used it to paint the emotional relationship between Gregor and Luxa, as well as the dark, twisted side of Gorger. Also, hope my non-Christian readers don't mind the occasional Biblical imagery. I just thought it'd be an interesting parallel to see Gregor sacrifice himself for Regalia, just as Jesus did in the New Testament. This is NOT me trying to impose my personal beliefs on you.**

 **Question: Do you think Gregor and Luxa properly reconciled in this chapter? Or do you think their relationship is still up in the air?**

 **And rank your top 5 most evil villains in the story for me to see what you guys think of the enemies Gregor and Calvin have faced! The choices are: Flavius, Brutus, The Bane (only appears in Gregor's imagination), Snake, Dr Schmidt, Gorger, Conrad… Or anyone else you can think of!**


	20. Chapter 20: Jaws of Death

**Hi everyone! Guys, even if you just read my story, please start reviewing! It's the reviews that keep this story going. I will do my best to update weekly, but the reviews serve as a motivation to work harder and keep churning out chapters. Anyway, thanks goes to the following people: THExPOTxHEAD, A happy reader, koipbuiop, Im Blu, TH3 EL3TR1C, DeathDrayanD, Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander (glad to see you again my friend), Moeez, phantom1299 and pyro159. To the rest, please join these guys in keeping the reviews coming!  
**

 **This chapter may be a little boring to you, but it's crucial in setting up the coming events, and is necessary to establishing some thematic elements in this story. Some of you guys might even notice a couple of allegories here and there. Looking forward to some intellectual analysis!**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Jaws of Death**

"More gnawers have defected to join the rebels," one of the guards at the city gates reported bluntly.

Gregor contemplated the eerily tranquil plains, which could easily descend into an anarchic battleground. The lines between friend and foe had never been blurrier than they were now. As it stood, Lapblood was still set to lead a contingent of rats to fight their brothers and sisters, who had chosen the path of trying to slay an empire of Goliathan proportions.

Soon the dry, rocky ground would be damp with fresh blood, spilled in the name of ideological conflict. The rebels saw Regalia as a tyrannical state which oppressed its gnawer minority, and were thus justified to bring the city to its knees. Regalia saw the rebels as an existential threat, a group of terrorist fighters warped by extremism and driven to slaughter innocent people.

Little did both sides know how much good there was in each cause.

The rebels were trying to remind Regalia that they deserved basic rights too, that they should be treated as equals rather than being allowed to toil about in germ-festering slums, firmly cut away from climbing the rungs of the social ladder. They felt the Council and the monarchy had become too drunk with power and acted based on their own whims and fancies. Stripped to its barest concepts, their cause was to restore balance and justice to a city which had become far too discriminatory and corrupt.

Regalia, in its attempt to remain stable and secure in an increasingly tumultuous Underland, had stamped its foot down and were now employing somewhat draconian measures in order to protect the city. The monarchy would remain in power, because bringing democracy and equality could upset too many people in society and create the discord needed for the foxes to strike. And if that meant suppressing dissent brutally, then that would be carried out as long as it was deemed necessary.

Both had good intentions in terms of their causes, but they could only settle their differences in one way- the one way the Underland used to solve all problems.

War.

"How many of them?" the guard to Gregor's left asked.

"About a dozen," came the reply. "The city's entrances and exits have been closed off, by orders of the queen. With the exception of your expedition, no one may leave or enter the city."

Gnawers choosing to leave the safe and secure comforts of Regalia in order to enter a warzone spoke volumes of the situation in Regalia. If these gnawers would rather put their lives on the line and throw away their life in battle than stay behind the city walls, then there could only be one conclusion drawn.

They wouldn't have survived in Regalia either.

Gregor recalled the raging fires that devastated the gnawers' residential area, ravaging and razing homes to the ground, consuming bricks, soil and rat flesh alike. It was an atrocity committed with discrimination and hatred on an unprecedented scale. Even during the Civil War period under Conrad, fights were situated in streets and neutral ground. Burning homes to the ground? That was as personal as it got.

The violent screams and moans that he heard seemed to linger on for a split second, hauntingly brushing past his ear like prayers sent up to god. But he was no god. He was neither omniscient, or omnipotent, or even benevolent. He was just a man.

But he knew those screams would swirl around his head over the coming days, causing him to doubt himself and his own capabilities. Becoming the symbol of hope he wanted to be would be infinitely harder during this period, simply because nobody would buy into it. The people of Regalia would become as cynical as Ripred very soon, because no matter how much of an idealist they were, their dreams of peace were being constantly shattered by, ironically, their own thirst for war.

The gnawers were leaving because they knew that in Regalia, they stood no chance against the rampant, irrepressible hate directed towards them by the humans. As long as they invoked the slightest bit of suspicion in the humans, they were as good as dead. The humans would attack them with a seemingly unquenchable thirst for violence and would not stop until every rat was reduced to flesh and blood.

"Bastards," the guard to Gregor's left replied. "Hopefully the Queen will have each and every one of them executed by fire."

Unable to stand by one side and allow the injustice and discrimination to remain pervasive, Gregor blurted out, "They leave because of you guys."

Everybody turned to face Gregor, and even Gorger raised an eyebrow. Gregor cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "They're leaving because you guys can't even treat them with basic respect. I'm not gonna pretend like I know this city better than you guys, but, I mean, burning down their homes can't be right, can it?"

"We had the right to," the guard to his right responded frostily. "All suspects have to be shut down immediately. If we do not clamp down on them, what's to stop them from launching another attack from within?"

"But why are you clamping down on them by killing them?" Gregor asked, frustrated by their ignorance and bigotry. "Why can't you just conduct a normal investigation? Why must violence be involved?"

For once, the Regalians seemed stumped by the question. They turned to look at each other, searching for answer but finding themselves speechless.

"That's exactly what I mean," Gregor went on. "You guys aren't doing this out of justice. You guys are doing this out of anger and hatred for them. They didn't even do anything to you and yet you're destroying their whole life. And still you curse them for choosing to leave this shithole."

"They killed many of us during the War of Time," one guard responded uncertainly. "They killed our parents."

"You did the same," Gregor shot back. "You think the humans were the only ones who lost their parents and siblings? Everybody thinks there's a good guy and a bad guy in a war. But you know what? In the end, it's just two sides fighting. There are good and bad people on each side. And it sucks, cos' it's often the good guys who die fighting for the bad guys."

Again, a thundering silence rang throughout the air. Uncertainty began to entangle itself around all the Regalians, instilling doubt in their very mission. Hell, it was instilling doubt in their very existence. These guys lived to fight wars… Was there a life for them beyond fighting?

Gorger broke the delicate silence with a guttural chuckle. "You're not as stupid as Ripred has made you out to be, Warrior."

"Shut up," Gregor snapped back, and the rat raised one paw up in mock surrender.

"Regardless of what you feel Warrior," the one guard to his right spoke up, asserting his authority amongst the people at the gate, " the war has begun, and nothing will stop it. Mount up, gentleman!"

"No," Gregor muttered under his breath as he climbed onto a bat he was unfamiliar with. "I'll stop it."

"Greetings Warrior," the bat purred, "I am she called Nemesis."

"Hey Nemesis," he greeted her. "Where exactly will we be flying to?"

"A series of caves West from the city gates," she informed him. "That's where the hostages are being held. The rebels are stationed there too."

"That's not too far from here," Gregor mused aloud. "By the way, would you happen to know how Apollo is doing?"

"He's sustained heavy injuries, Warrior," Nemesis replied. "But he will definitely pull through, and there is a rumour amongst fellow fliers that he's recovering faster than expected."

"I should have gone to see him before this," Gregor sighed.

"You will see him again Warrior," Nemesis consoled him. "This is not the last time you will be in this city."

"How do you know?" he asked. "I'm going there to be executed. It's my life for the lives of the hostages."

"I don't know, Warrior," she replied softly. "But I believe. What else is there but faith and hope in our darkest moments?"

That statement was so profound and powerful that it shut Gregor up instantly. To despair in moments devoid of hope was effectively suicide, but to believe… to have faith… Now that was a whole different story. Gregor had seen how hope inspired an entire city to fight back even when death loomed over them.

Ripred was wrong. Hope was not a false ideal. It lived on in those who were willing to carry it on their shoulders.

"Let's go!" the head guard barked and the fliers took off into the air, destroying the placid atmosphere as they rocketed towards the caves.

Gregor couldn't help but smirk when he saw Gorger's legs bound by shackles. It was always gratifying to see a despotic king humbled and humiliated, as if the social pyramid of society had been inverted and he now sat at the bottom of it. Gregor was no Communist, but to see elite bastards being humiliated brought a sense of justice and balance to the volatile universe.

Feeling a little overwhelmed and exhausted by the turn of events, as well as feeling the weight of his injuries from the fight with Ripred bear down on him, Gregor decided to close his eyes…

* * *

… _and come face to face with the Bane._

 _The two of them sat across each other in the Council hall, which was petrifyingly still and quiet. The chairs and benches seemed to creak every few seconds, as if to remind Gregor that there was still life in the hall. His ears picked up a couple of distant sounds, but they seemed like they belonged to another realm, far beyond the reality he was a part of._

 _The Bane hauled his carcass of a body up, and trudged around the hall for a few minutes, observing the finest details and all its intricacies._

" _I lost my parents when I was but a pup," the Bane mumbled. "My father was scum, sure, but my mother? She loved me."_

 _In that moment, the Bane looked vulnerable and pitiful, despite how monstrous and imposing he looked. The monster was but a little child in this scene, nostalgically recalling a past where there was no hate or death. Gregor, for the first time in years, felt so sorry for him._

" _Ripred raised me," the Bane went on, "but not as a parent. I was a burden for him… I was the future of the Underland. Its fate hinged on the choices I made. You know that feeling, don't you?"_

 _Gregor nodded slowly._

" _Not a very pleasant one, huh?" the Bane said bitterly. "He objectified me, treated me like an asset which could fall into the wrong hands. And because of that, I did."_

" _What's your point?" Gregor asked, finally breaking his self-imposed silence._

" _My point is," the Bane drawled, "would you have been so different from me if you had been born in my place? Growing up without the one who cared for you the most? She was the only one who truly loved me in this world. Everyone else saw me as a tool in whatever game they were playing. Was it really surprising that I became who I am?"_

" _You could have been born in my place," Gregor realised. "You could have grown up with a family. You could have been kind, and honourable, and heroic."_

" _Exactly!" the Bane exclaimed. "I could have been all that. The point I'm trying to make, Warrior, is that you and I could have swapped places and become entirely different individuals. The point I'm trying to make is that who are we to judge our enemies? Have we seen what they went through? Do we know what kind of environment they were tossed in?"_

" _You want me to have mercy on my enemies?" Gregor asked in disbelief._

" _I'm not telling you to hold back from killing them in battle," the Bane clarified. "I'm just saying that the next time you raise your blade and you have the time to think, think carefully if you really want to bring it down. There's a goodness in everyone if you look hard enough, and sometimes the individual can't find that goodness because he just didn't live in an environment which gave him an opportunity to expose that goodness."_

" _I don't know if I can do it," Gregor said uncertainly._

" _You will," the Bane said unconvincingly, almost as if he was just as uncertain as Gregor. "You have to."_

 _The light from the fading torches unfurled itself over the Bane's enormous corpse, casting the shadow of a little pup. The contrast as so stark- the shadow signalled the beguiling innocence the Bane once possessed. It was of a time before chaos, a time when he was but a child to a loving mother who would go on to sacrifice her life for him._

" _Don't…"_

 _Remembering Goldshard's dying breath caused a single tear to dramatically roll down Gregor's worn out and weathered cheeks. He never thought he'd cry for the Bane- the brute who savagely took the life of Gregor's best friend. But here, as he gazed at the shadow of a rat who could have had a heart as golden as his mother's fur, he couldn't help but break down from how tragic it was._

" _We're not very different, you and I," the Bane smirked._

" _For some reason, I feel that isn't the first time I've heard that," Gregor remarked. But in this instance, it was hard to deny that the Bane was lying. If his parents were taken from him, Gregor would have become the merciless villain Gorger was urging him to become. Life wouldn't have meaning for him anymore- it'd just be about killing and drowning self-pity in an ocean of blood._

" _Do you regret killing me?" the Bane asked as his shadow began to crawl over and coalesce with the other shadows into a titanic mass of swirling darkness._

 _The Council hall began to fall apart, with huge blocks of the building raining down and crashing into the ground. But before Gregor could answer, his world disappeared entirely, and he…_

* * *

Woke up.

Gregor rubbed his eyes and groggily lurched back and forth, trying to get the blood flowing up to his head again. Little statements which were said in the dream were whispered into his ear, like there was a ghostly apparition caressing Gregor's disorganised thoughts with soothing words.

"We are near, Warrior," Nemesis told him. "And I just want to say that… Whatever they decide to do with you will not matter. You are still a hero in our eyes."

"A dead hero is still dead, Nemesis," Gregor replied.

"No Warrior," she disagreed. "Dead heroes never stay dead. History immortalises them, and will continue to do so till the end of time."

Before Gregor could respond, the bats made a sharp turn into a huge cavern from which an awful din emerged. It sounded like a dreadful choir of demons gathering together to scream about their hatred of the planet. Curiosity inevitably rose in Gregor's chest and he looked down to see what the commotion was all about.

He nearly threw up.

A teeming mass of rats squeaked and whistled below, crawling over each other like rabid ants in an airtight container. The sheer number of them was staggering by anybody's standards. They were in every corner of the cavern, squeaking away in a language nobody understood. Even the deciphered code wouldn't have been able to interpret what the hell these guys were talking about.

Fear wrapped its cold fingers around Gregor's heart, giving him a taste in his mouth so familiar yet so distant. Was he afraid of heights? Yes. But had he been so afraid of an army in the last few years? No. Not even Flavius' army had spread so much terror as this one did.

Because at the end of the day, Flavius' foxes made up an army, a disciplined unit of soldiers who followed orders obediently but did not go overboard with them. But the rats below? They were anarchists, radicalised insurgents, freedom fighters who would die for their cause. They were unpredictable and insane and warped beyond most of the forces Flavius had conjured. These rats weren't driven by money, or riches, or power.

They were driven by their hero.

Their warrior.

Their god.

Gregor felt sick when he saw a single skull placed on a natural stone pedestal in the cave. The skull gleamed a brilliant white and stood out against the thousands of grey, black and brown rats. A skull so white in a sea of colours that it served as a stark reminder of who it once belonged to. Gregor could recognise that skull from miles away. Only one creature had a skull so massive, and which seemed to smile maliciously at him.

Maybe Nemesis was right. Individuals were immortalised by history, and here, under the dark light of the Underland, the Bane stood above everyone else.

Not as a warrior, or a king, or even a hero.

But as a god.

The whole cavern reeked of rotting flesh, and soon it wasn't difficult to figure out why. A solitary carcass rested in one corner of the cavern, and surrounding it was thousands of hungry rats. To Gregor's surprise, each rat bowed his or her head before taking a single bite out of the corpse, with the rat releasing a shriek after consuming the mouthful of meat. It was a holy communion in an unholy church.

The bats landed at one side of the cavern, where a trio of rats stood in a line, patiently waiting for their visitors. Gregor leapt off Nemesis, whose muscles had tensed up in fear. She shifted about uneasily, occasionally flitting upwards before landing back down. Meanwhile, the guards quickly dismounted and hauled Gorger off, before tossing his body in front of the rats.

"Ah, Bloodclaw," Gorger greeted the grey rat standing in the middle. "It has been a while."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Bloodclaw replied, bowing down reverently. "Our brothers and sisters are elated to hear that you still breathe. It is truly a miracle, and a sign from the Bane that you are meant to lead us."

"They're all yours," one of the guards told Bloodclaw. "We've upheld our end of the bargain. Release the hostages."

Bloodclaw glanced at the guard and sneered. "Remove King Gorger's shackles."

"Do that yourself," the guard responded coldly. "Removing his shackles was not a part of our bargain."

Bloodclaw raised an eyebrow. The two rats standing next to him paced forward, causing all the guards to unsheathe their weapons and stand in a defensive position. Within seconds, the cacophony in the cavern died down and was replaced with an intense silence. Gregor felt the weight on his shoulders increase even more as more than a thousand pair of eyes locked their vision on him and the other guards.

"Remove King Gorger's shackles," Bloodclaw repeated.

For what felt like eons, Bloodclaw and the head guard stared into each other's eyes in what felt like the most terrifying game of poker ever played. But just when it felt like the intensity would cause the whole world to crumble to pieces, Bloodclaw forced the head guard's hands. "You can choose to leave this place with his shackles and your people, or neither."

The head guard inhaled sharply, but nodded his head, resulting in the other guards sheathing their weapons reluctantly. He then walked over to Gorger and took his keys out of his belt, before removing the rat's shackles. The clinking sound of the keys and chains was the only sound that echoed throughout the vast cavern, adding to the tension in it.

The guard removed the shackles and brought it back to his bat, before turning to face Bloodclaw. "The hostages. NOW."

"In the next cavern," Bloodclaw told him. "Find your way back to Regalia yourself."

The guards and their bats began to make their way out of this cavern into the next one, but Bloodclaw quickly called out to the head guard, "My friend, I didn't say you could go."

All the guards turned to stare at the head guard fearfully, but he somehow maintained just enough composure to nod at them to carry on.

Bloodclaw casually strode forward and eyed the head guard, walking in circles around him like he was evaluating his suitability for something. Gregor didn't want to start imagining what that "something" was.

"Do you know why they are eating that body over there?" Bloodclaw asked the head guard.

The head guard shook his head.

"That body has been sanctified," Bloodclaw explained. "It's part of our weekly ceremony where we consume holy flesh. That flesh has become holy through our prayers, and every time we consume it the Bane showers blessings on us from above."

"You're insane," the head guard replied mockingly. "All of you are. The Bane is beyond all of your prayers."

Bloodclaw ignored him and continued, "The one who offers his body must be willing. Only then can the sacrifice be blessed by the Bane. But, as with every set of rules, there are exceptions."

Without warning, Bloodclaw lashed out and shredded his claws through the head guard's throat. Gregor closed his eyes, unwilling to take in the sight in front of him. His stomach churned as he heard desperate gasping, a sign that the head guard had begun to choke on his own blood.

When Gregor finally opened his eyes, his gut felt like it had twisted into the Gordian knot. The head guard's body was being dragged to another corner of the cavern, as Bloodclaw boomed, "This is a gift from the Bane! He has decided to endow us with human flesh, which will give us the strength to overcome their pathetic walls and soldiers!"

A roar of approval greeted Bloodclaw's words. The grey rat yelled out, "Do not take that flesh yet! Wait till next week, when we are at war with the Regalians! Discipline, brothers and sisters! Discipline for our Lord!"

Another roar of approval followed suit, and Bloodclaw, now foaming at the mouth, unleashed a hysterical squeak and said, "And our Lord has sent us another sign! He has given us a king to lead us on earth! That king was dead, but has been resurrected in the name of the Bane! My brothers and sisters, I present to you… KING GORGER!"

Deafening screams and shrieks literally caused the cavern to shake, and the noise could have drowned out two Kpop concerts with ease. The rats threw themselves up in the air in a frenzy and lay prostrate on the ground, grovelling in front of Gorger and singing his praises.

"Warrior," Bloodclaw greeted him as he stepped away to let Gorger stand under the metaphorical spotlight, "You belong somewhere else. Follow me."

The grey rat lead Gregor through a series of narrow tunnels, with the air seeming to thicken from the evil that lurked nearby. The scarred tunnel walls seemed to grin at him, beckoning for him to inch closer to the jaws of death.

But Gregor couldn't help but ponder over the fate of the Bane. Even after his adversary was long dead, they were still at war against each other. Gregor knew that this war was just another chapter of the War of Time, and this time his battle with the Bane had evolved from a physical one into a symbolic one.

It was a battle to see whose legacy would last longer.

The Warrior's legacy was the very existence of Regalia, and the alliance between the different species. But now that alliance was falling into tatters, with almost half of the gnawer population in Regalia leaving the city to join the rebels.

The Bane's legacy was this cult, a fanatical group of rats who were once motivated by the right reason to take down Regalia but turned the Bane into a deity in order to manipulate the more conservative rats into fighting for the rebels.

This battle of legacies would determine whether love or hate won. And as it stood, the Bane's legacy of hate was poised to claim victory.

"Didn't know the gnawers were so gullible," Gregor remarked, trying to rile Bloodclaw up. It wasn't the wisest decision since he had no weapon, but if he played some mind games with a leading figure like Bloodclaw, he could possibly influence the rat to do something stupid.

But Bloodclaw wasn't buying the bait. He just shot Gregor a sly grin, before replying, "Aren't we all?"

They made a couple more turns and then arrived in a cave which was pint-sized compared to the cavern they had entered earlier. Gregor's rager senses instantly were on high alert as he spotted at least half a dozen armed guards standing on each side of the cavern, each hand wrapped around the hilt of their blade.

Standing in the middle of the cave was none other than York, with Susannah standing to his right. Bloodclaw nodded, before speaking. "York, we brought the Warrior here for you to punish him. My brothers and sisters only implore you to exact justice on him."

"I will do as I see fit," York replied. "He has wronged me, not you."

"Aye," Bloodclaw agreed, "But perhaps you should consider taking a harsher stance. After all, you might want to… set an example for your soldiers."

"We are grateful to you," York said slowly, "For bringing him to us. But that will be it. I will handle him myself."

"As it should be," Bloodclaw responded, bowing his head once again. He then began to trudge out of the cave, but not before shooting another fiendish smile at Gregor.

Gregor turned to face York. "Have you decided how you're gonna punish me?" he asked innocently.

York's fierce gaze seemed hell bent on penetrating Gregor's facade in order to break him and elicit fear, but Gregor somehow remained calm enough to meet that gaze with assuredness.

"Why did they give you up?" York asked eventually, as Susannah let out an irate sigh from the long stretch of silence.

"They didn't," Gregor said softly. "I gave myself up."

York appeared to be visibly shocked by Gregor's reply, even if he tried to put on a poker face to hide it. "Why?" York asked.

Gregor took in a deep breath. This was the moment of sympathy he had to capitalise on. This was the moment he had to use to convince York to end this madness.

"I did it because I deserve it," Gregor replied truthfully. "The hostages should never have been in the shit they were in. If they died because of me I could never live with myself."

York raised an eyebrow. "Is that all? Do you really have no other agenda?"

"Actually, I do," Gregor answered. "I came here to convince you to end this war. Look York, I know we haven't been fair to you. Regalia's been like a bully to you, and I… I never should have attacked you. I'm sorry, York, I really am."

"Apology accepted," York grunted. "But that apology changes nothing. We will still fight Regalia in battle."

"Don't do it," Gregor said, shaking his head vigorously. "Punish me- I'm the one who fought your city, not them. I went in there unauthorised. This has nothing to do with them."

"Regardless of the atrocities you committed," York said coldly, "Regalia still has to pay for its years of oppression."

"Kill me," Gregor blurted out.

When York stared at him in bewilderment, Gregor quickly went on, "Kill me if it satisfies you. If this is what you want, then do it. Just swear you'll stop fighting with Regalia, and I'll give you my life."

"Your life is in my hands," York growled, "It's not up to you to give away."

"I made the decision to come here," Gregor replied calmly, "in the hope that you'd spare Regalia for my life. York, you lose men when you fight a war, and at the end of it you'll achieve nothing. Do you really want to tell hundreds of grieving families back home that the ones they loved most died in vain?"

"War is necessary," York snarled, "to teach Regalia a lesson in power."

"Not this way," Gregor pleaded. "Show you're better than the Council, York. Show them that you have the courage to solve this without fighting."

"It is cowardly to avoid battle," York argued. "It's a sign of weakness."

"No, it's not," Gregor said earnestly. "It takes more courage to put away your sword than to kill someone with it."

York hesitated, and that was the moment for Gregor to exploit and break down his resolve. "York, I know this doesn't sound right to you. Honestly, it doesn't sound right to me either. But then I thought for a while, and then you know what I realised? Everybody has good in them, and that good is worth fighting for. You, me, Regalia, the Fount, the rebels… There's good in all of us, and we can't give up on that good as long as hope still lives."

"Gregor," Susannah said slowly, "You know that I, of all people, would not wish any harm on you. But you did fight us and hurt us. That cannot go unpunished."

"I know," Gregor replied, "which is why I'm offering you a chance for retribution. I came here without any weapons or armour so that you guys would know I'm serious about this. I don't mind dying, but dying knowing that my friends and my loved ones aren't safe? I don't know if I can do that. Kill me, York. But promise me you'll leave Regalia alone."

Gregor could read the conflict and pain on York's face. The big man bowed his head, and said, "You really came here to die for Regalia?"

"Yes," Gregor confirmed, "and… and above all, I came here to die for your niece. I… I don't know if she still loves me, but I still love her. And if that means dying to save the city she loves, then I'll gladly do it."

"You're not even an Underlander," York said in confusion. "Why are you doing this for Regalia?"

"There are times when everything in the world seems to fall out of place," Gregor sighed. "And in those times I lose hope that I can make the world a better place. But then when I see the people that are a part of the Underland, I realise that so many lives count on me to preserve the peace. I want to die knowing a kid can walk down a street with a smile, or a pup can play with his parents and his human friends."

"I don't understand," York admitted.

"We can change the Underland," Gregor urged him. "And it starts by ending the fighting. Let me be the last life you take, York. You and I can save the Underland. I've gone through so much shit the last few weeks but I'm here to tell you that there is still hope left in me, and that hope rests in you."

York took a couple of steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Gregor. "I'm sorry for hurting you, York," Gregor said. "You're a good man."

Gregor closed his eyes and imagined the stone knight at the Cloisters. No matter what happened, he would remain peaceful to the end. Opening his eyes, he looked right up at York

Suddenly, York broke down and wrapped his arms around Gregor. Each sob rumbled like an earthquake tremor through his body as the big man began to cry. Overcome with emotion, Gregor's composed masquerade fell apart, and he began to cry as well.

"I'm so sorry," York sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Gregor."

"I'm sorry York," he replied through his sobs, "I should never have fought you."

York let go of him and reared up to his full height again. A quick glance at Susannah revealed that she had broken down into tears as well, with her cheeks now damp from the waterworks. The guards still stood at the side, but this time with a solemn rather than an aggressive expression.

"Few men have as much honour as you to sacrifice themselves for their city," York said. "Least of all an Overlander like you. All is forgiven… There will be no need for any punishment. You have taught me a lesson I shall never forget till I rest in my grave."

"York, I have to-" Gregor began, but York cut him off.

"No, there will be no more fighting between us. If you are willing to lose your life for me and your city, then I have no right to take it away from you. Will you accept an apology from an old man?"

He stretched out his hand.

Gregor gripped it, and shook it with conviction.

This handshake was going to change the fate of the Underland.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter! Firstly, I hope you liked the scene at the end of this chapter. It's not perfectly written, but I hope it conveyed the emotional weight I intended to incorporate into that scene. York sees the goodness and hope that stays in Gregor, and realises that he cannot take the life of someone like him. He also understands the need for peace in the Underland, and as dramatic as it seems it has a powerful effect on him.**

 **Personally, I know it seems like York gave in very easily, but if you were in the same position I suspect some of you might act in a similar fashion. To see someone nobly choosing to give up their life, and a promising one at that, can be very touching, and seeing as how York is in the middle of it, I think it's realistic for him to forgive Gregor.**

 **Favourites and follows please! Reviews are also greatly appreciated!**

 **Question: Do you prefer a darker and more violent Gregor, or a more peaceful and hopeful Gregor? It's not a question which decides whether you're a good person or not, but this question does reveal your preferences as a reader. I'm interested to hear a response!**


	21. Chapter 21: Pain

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the two-week break, I was EXTREMELY busy so I wasn't able to update as soon as I liked. Anyway, I'm really grateful to all those who reviewed my story over the last couple of weeks. So here goes thanks to: BryceSyce, Moeez, Im Blu, THExPOTxHEAD, koipbuiop, DeathDrayanD, A happy reader, The Editor Writer of mistakes, TH3 EL3TR1C, AresTheUnderlander, Clytuis, HumanicHedgeHog, pyro159, Gyltig(good to hear from you again!), Reader, two guest readers and NoahTheOverlander (glad to hear from you again!). Please continue to review my story, and for those who didn't, I'd love to hear from you too!**

 **Anyway, it was pretty much even for those who preferred darker Gregor and those who prefer more hopeful Gregor. All I can say is that I'll do my best to apply the right personality in the right situation, and to make that personality as organic and natural as possible in the context of the story.**

 **This chapter contains disturbing material, so I wrote a VERY brief summary at the bottom of the chapter if you feel you can't take it. Most people should be able to handle this, though. It's definitely still in the T range and although not very pleasant, I do believe it's manageable.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Pain**

Sweat clung to his forehead, his ragged breathing gradually becoming more audible as the seconds crawled by.

Darkness surrounded him, keeping him pinned down in a little corner, forcing him to whimper softly as every breath sounded like a musical note to his ears, with a symphony being formed in the depths of hell he had been a part of for eternity.

When he finally opened his eyes, he screamed, or at least he thought he did. There was nothing around him as he floated about in the void. Panic seized hold off his throat and strangled him, muffling every hasty breath that slipped out of his lips. He was in Tartarus, or hell, or the underworld. A place where his cries for help and pleas for mercy would not be heard. He had been condemned to eternal damnation.

Damnation for failing to protect Mr Carter.

The memories began to flood his mind, tauntingly inflicting the emotional agony of losing Mr Carter on him. Tears began to well in his blind eyes as flow out like the stream which carried Mr Carter's corpse to a place far away from him. His hands groped about wildly, coming into contact with numerous unidentifiable objects. It was no good.

Blind as a bat.

Years of mourning seemed to follow, as he resorted to tasting his own tears to sustain himself. His already unhinged mind began to stray further and further into the dark, unexplored reserves of his mind. Soft whispers in the howling night. Rough, coarse soil scraping his skin, making him bleed not just tears, but hope as well. A tight space, trapped together with a man he still loved.

But no words. She lived next door, keeping to herself. He had been further from her embrace than he was with the one he lived with. No warmth, just a familiar cold emptiness as he fell further into the void, far from British accents and brittle happiness.

Then, light from heaven. The illumination of darkness, as his dull senses finally came into focus under the glaring radiance which fell from God's eyes. But when the dust settled… All he saw was the devil.

Snake grinned at him.

"How've you been?" he asked.

Calvin tried to speak but the words got caught in his throat, as the dryness and coarseness of it began to constrict him, leaving him choking and breathless. Finally, he managed to cough out, "Where… am… I?"

The words felt so uneven, like his mouth was the next barrier which distorted his speech. He tried to move his jaw, and then remembered- Snake had broken it. It seemed to sag, a visual symbol of how Calvin's sense of hope had sagged tremendously over the hours that seemed to run so inconsistently, racing by and slowing down to drag out the pain.

"We're in hell," Snake replied. "But you seem to know this place by a different name. You call it the Underland."

They were in the Underland? Calvin's eyes immediately darted across the room, looking for any signs that Snake was lying. Lab equipment, a couple of rifles, some chemicals in the background… Seemed like the Overland to him.

Snake quickly went on, "We've built headquarters down here, next to the foxes' kingdom. We need only weeks to organise ourselves, and then we can liberate this place of… them."

The disdain in his voice felt so genuine, like he was engaged in a crusade against evil itself. Calvin tried to speak, but the pain was so agonising he remained silent.

"We'll repair your jaw for you," Snake said calmly, looking down at Calvin pitifully. "You shouldn't have to endure such pain. In exchange, we want information on Regalia. Weaknesses, key figures, anything which you think might help us."

Calvin couldn't speak, but he could still relay a message across to Snake. Although his arm felt limp and sore, he lifted it arm and gave Snake the finger, before it collapsed back down to his side again.

Snake actually responded with a half-smile, before saying, "I figured you wouldn't want to say anything. But unlike you, I do have some manners. We're gonna discuss this like gentlemen, shall we?"

Calvin tried to reply, but neither his muscles nor his mouth had any strength left to offer any kind of response. Snake's half-smile widened to a grin, and he said, "Calvin, the Overland cannot sustain our growing population. We only have a finite amount of resources and space. We cannot survive if we go on like this."

Calvin nodded his head. To be fair, that was a reasonable evaluation of the situation on earth then.

"Mankind's existence has always revolved around this idea of evolution," Snake continued, "We become better and improve. Only the fittest will survive, after all, so we cannot let our guard down."

Calvin didn't nod this time. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't want to know where this was going.

"All the species in the Underland are incredible," Snake said. "Somehow they have found a way to adapt to their surroundings and not just survive, but thrive as well. We need to use them as research, and harness their abilities to build our own world here. And in order to do that successfully, we need to eliminate competition."

Calvin shook his head.

"You disapprove," Snake smirked. "No surprises. Richard really brainwashed you into fighting for them out of some misplaced sense of… compassion. But we can fight all that indoctrination, Calvin. You need to see it for what it is- these creatures have run their course. They found a loophole in nature to avoid the effects of evolution. And we will do the same by exterminating them, because their time is UP."

Snake's gaze shifted away from Calvin and he looked up at the dazzling light which fell on the both of them. "Someday, if God finds me guilty, I will go to hell for my sins. I'm probably heading there anyway because of what I've done before. This is my last chance for redemption, Calvin. That may mean I pay the price, but at least I go to hell knowing I did my best."

Calvin, having heard enough, steadied his nerves, prepared for the pain, and mumbled out,

"It… doesn't… have to be… this way."

His swollen jaw throbbed, causing Calvin to scream quietly to himself. Snake seemed to pick up on his discomfort, and said, "My offer still stands. You might have disrespected me and hurt me, but I'm still willing to forgive you. Just give me the info and I'll have your jaw fixed."

He then added, "We can save our planet, you and I. You don't even have to participate in the whole operation. I just need intel so I can create a solid plan, and that will be it. You're free to go and do whatever you want to do."

When Calvin didn't respond, Snake shook his head. "You don't understand, Calvin. I'm damned, ok? I'm damned to hell. I'm trying to do what is necessary to redeem myself. This is my last chance. If this doesn't succeed, I'll probably end up dying. You have to give me this chance, Calvin. You have to."

For all the sympathy he harboured towards Snake and his cause, Calvin knew he couldn't say yes. He'd be complicit in the mass genocide of innocent creatures who just yearned for peace. Or did they?

Snake seemed to read his mind. "They're barbarians, Calvin. They fight amongst themselves and slaughter each other. They're destined for extinction anyway. We're just here to accelerate the process."

That… that seemed to make sense. The Underland was in many ways a parallel to conflict in the Overland. There was an unquenchable thirst for death and destruction down here, and it would result in the whole place swallowing itself whole. No matter how many times Calvin and Gregor tried to steer them off the road to perdition, they found themselves shrugging off the Overlanders and continuing down this path of endless fighting and wanton destruction.

But Calvin remembered the people there. Lapblood, Luxa, Hazard, Howard, Nerissa, Apollo, Ripred, Hecate, Gregor… All of them fighting to maintain peace in the Underland. They had given their lives to ensuring that the innocent wouldn't be taken. They had sacrificed so much for the greater good.

And Calvin could not betray that, not now, not ever.

"No," he replied bluntly.

Snake's sneer was akin to the mocking snarl that Flavius made when he was nothing more than annoyed. "So be it," the mercenary said. "I wanted to do this the nice way. I don't want to tear your world apart. But you leave me with little choice."

Snake got up from his seat and reared up to his full height- a six-foot mountain of defined and toned muscle. His beard was a grey, grizzly mess, making him seem old and world-weary.

"I had two children… Two sons," Snake began. "They were… they were the pride of my life. Even though I didn't spend nearly enough time with them, I felt so satisfied as a dad to see them growing up to be strong boys. They were set to become strong men like me."

"What happened?" Calvin croaked, even though he dreaded the answer.

"I let my ego get the better of me," Snake said sadly. "As a mercenary, I attracted too much attention. I was too successful. So they hunted my family down and kidnapped my two boys. They held my children hostage in exchange for me. I thought I could take them on and save my children at the same time. I thought I was skilled enough to save everybody."

A solitary tear rolled down Snake's cheek as his face became a living embodiment of agony. "But I was wrong. The attempt failed, of course. And even though I killed all of those bastards, I lost the only people I had ever loved."

Snake looked down for a second and murmured bitterly, "At the end of the fight I found their bodies with their throats slit. At that moment, I thought I had lost everything forever."

Calvin's heart broke with sorrow when he saw the sheer torment on Snake's face. No father should ever have to bury his child, even a father as twisted or as warped as Snake.

"But," Snake added, still looking down, "I found out that I had a child from another relationship I had. God was giving me another chance to redeem myself as a parent. Unfortunately, I didn't realise this child was mine until it was too late. I wasn't even sure about it until today."

"Who… is… the child?" Calvin asked, but deep down an indescribable emotion was stirring, prompting him in the direction of dark answers.

"I had an affair with a beautiful woman," Snake replied. "She was married to a rich bastard at the time, but somehow she fell for me, and I fell for her. I left her only because of the nature of my job… I never wanted any harm to come to her. She didn't tell me that together we had fathered a son, a son who would one day grow up to be greater than his father."

"Where… is this… heading?" Calvin asked fearfully, immediately regretting the question. He didn't want to follow Snake deeper and deeper.

"For years I lived without knowing of the child," Snake answered. "But one day, the woman died. A part of me died along with her, Calvin. I mourned and grieved for her for countless days and nights."

Snake cleared his throat and continued, "That was when I found out she bore a son, a son of my blood. From then on I watched him grow, keeping a close eye on him and looking out or any dangers which posed a threat to his life. And somehow, somehow, the stars aligned themselves perfectly and fate would entwine the both of us together. Do you know now who that boy is?"

"No," Calvin choked, shaking his head desperately. The pain in his jaw completely disappeared, numb from the frosty dagger embedded in his heart.

"The woman whom I loved was called Cecilia Oberton," Snake said, staring right into Calvin's eyes. "You are my son."

The blade of despair pierced his heart, causing him to gasp from the excruciating pain. His world began to shake and crumble about him as his reality and hallucinations began to blur into a single entity. He writhed about helplessly in his seat, trying hard to forget Snake's words and banish the pain. But the words were branded into his chest, leaving a scar which would last an eternity.

His mind raced back to a time, a time when pain was still fresh and raw to him. Rain pelted down like bullets from heaven. Lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder rumbled angrily. Black coats surrounded him, fooling him into believing they were just walls of imagination. Perhaps one day he would wake up in his warm bed with his mother sitting next to him, soothing words slipping into his ear as the sun beamed at him.

Never again.

His eyes shifted towards the black soil beneath his feet, made duller and more bitter by the grey skies which scowled at them. Voices in the distance, too far away to be heard. A hand grasping his.

He looked up at Richard Oberton, not sure what to call him anymore. The man who had given him everything , who had taught him everything, who had inspired him to fight through pain and sorrow to come out stronger, was not the man Calvin had thought he was. His entire life was built on a lie and it was a lie.

A lie of love.

His mother had lied to Richard Oberton, and he was the product of that lie. Richard had gone on to treat Calvin like his son, even though Calvin was… Calvin was…

A bastard.

All the love Richard had showered on him was undeserved, because they didn't even share the same blood. His father wasn't even his father anymore. Calvin didn't even know how or what to identify himself as- son of Richard, or son of Snake?

Tears streamed down his face as his mother's coffin was lowered into her final resting place, while his father's grave expression quickly broke down into a torrent of tears as well. But Calvin knew she wouldn't rest in peace- she had betrayed her husband and left him with a son of a bitch to take care of.

The dark vision dissipated as a fog, leaving Calvin staring at the mercenary once more. The despair was quickly overridden with disbelief, and Calvin spat back, "You're a goddamn liar."

"Why do you think I spared you during the Battle of Regalia?" Snake asked. "At that time I wasn't very sure, but just in case you were my son I left you alive. I captured you and brought you down here to take a blood sample to check your DNA. You're my son, Calvin. The evidence points to it. You cannot deny your father."

"You were never my father," Calvin hissed. "My father was the one who took care of me and raised me. You weren't even there for me, so as far as I see it, you're no dad of mine, even if we have the same blood."

"Well," Snake replied with an icy grin, "you know what they say- spare the rod, spoil the kid. If you won't be my son, I will _teach_ you to be my son."

"Give it your best shot," Calvin retorted.

Snake sauntered over to another desk and picked up a syringe, which contained a murky green liquid which seemed to swirl menacingly. Snake gazed at it with what seemed to be the polarising emotions of admiration and disgust. "It's a special type of poison taken from the Underland. Flavius claims that it's called the Murk back in Regalia. Have you heard of it?" he asked.

"I resisted it," Calvin responded, recalling that moment in the jungle. Engulfed by the poisonous fumes, his hallucinations had run rampant and ravaged his consciousness, but he had anchored himself to reality by using his father's memory. It had become one of the big turning points in his life- when he realised that what he could be and what he could do was entirely up to him. But that watershed moment had lost its power in light of Snake's revelation.

Remembering his father became the bitter taste it was never meant to be. If Snake really was his father, then the one person he had used to anchor himself to reality was merely a phantasm, a wild fantasy based on faux bliss.

"You resisted it?" Snake said incredulously, evidently impressed. "Not bad, Calvin. But I'm afraid this isn't just liquid Murk… Dr Schmidt added some compounds to it so as to make it more than just a hallucinogen. He did mention it can act as a truth serum, and an instrument."

"Instrument for what?" Calvin blurted out.

Snake shot him a venomous smile and said, "Fear."

He glanced at a couple of other syringes and shrugged. "Those are for pain. But you have been trained to endure physical pain. I want to make your mind suffer, not your body."

Snake jabbed the syringe into Calvin's right arm violently, invoking a hiss of pain from Calvin. "Don't worry, son," Snake said, strapping Calvin's limbs down and then tightening the straps. "The pain should take effect soon. If you cooperate, we can end this quickly and get you fixed."

At first, the only physical pain Calvin was aware of was a slight ache in his jaw and the stinging pain in his right arm because of the injection.

And then it slammed into him like a tidal wave.

A burning sensation in his jaw erupted into an excruciating blaze of pain that overwhelmed him. The pain in his jaw kept getting exacerbated, and he felt as if his chin was swelling to the point where it would just combust. Calvin's eyes bulged until they were just fractions away from popping out of their sockets, and he felt his veins begin to constrict themselves on their own, causing the blood flow to be disrupted and the blood pressure to rise in his arteries.

Then he felt the air rush out of his lungs, as if they were giving up on him and making a mad dash for it. He gasped desperately, trying to prevent the air from abandoning him, but he couldn't. Nothing wanted to work for him- he was just sitting there, watching helplessly as the contents within the syringe began to shackle him to madness and agony.

His vision began to blur, and everything around him became a pixelated image from a Nineties computer. But there was no mistaking the black mass that had parked itself right in front of his hazy view.

"Where are all the secret entrances into Regalia?" Snake asked.

The haziness of the vision seemed to unnatural and yet so familiar… It reflected the perception of the outer world Calvin had become used to over the last few years. The idea of lines being blurred and grey areas where nobody could do the right thing had become commonplace in his world and had obstructed him especially in the last couple of years. Calvin could barely discern good from evil anymore.

But now, he knew what was the right thing to do.

He bit down on his tongue and left his lips sealed. If he spoke, he would probably tell the truth, so the best bet was to use every last ounce of discipline in his mental arsenal to fend off the urge to disclose Regalia's secrets to the monster in front of him.

"Let me ask you again," Snake said, and Calvin almost smiled when he and the frustration in the mercenary's voice. "I don't intend to repeat myself after this. Where are all the secret entrances into Regalia?"

Despite the agony he was in, Calvin remained tight-lipped. Closing his eyes, he screamed inside his head, but refused to allow a moment of weakness and vulnerability to let any words slip out.

"You never disobeyed Richard," Snake snarled, "yet you have the balls to disobey ME. I am your father, not that piece of trash who deserved to die!"

Calvin was so tempted to lash out at Snake, to tell Snake how a true father would never torture his son. But still he remained silent, stiffening his entire body and committing himself to becoming a mute for as long as that serum was egging him to speak. The pain seemed to heighten even more, and Calvin had to use all his willpower to halt the scream building up in his throat.

Snake, cursing in exasperation, grabbed a table and hurled it across the room, causing it to smash into wooden splinters. He grabbed a vial of liquid and threw it in Calvin's direction. The vial of liquid flew narrowly over Calvin's head and broke apart into smithereens when coming into contact with the wall behind him.

"TALK TO ME!" Snake roared. "I've waited so long to have a son again. Don't destroy this chance!"

Calvin may not be able to speak, but sometimes the smallest actions screamed out the loudest. So he decided to tell Snake the whole story with one small movement.

He shook his head.

Snake reacted in fury, taking out his gun and firing multiple bullets at the wall. Each bullet left a black stain on the wall, and Calvin almost threw up when he thought he saw black blood oozing out of the wall. But a quick blink was able to banish that frightening image to the back of his mind.

But a second blink later was to change everything.

Calvin didn't see him at first. He was just standing in a corner, watching Calvin quietly. But eventually, Calvin's anguish-filled eyes settled on the pale figure, whose piercing eyes beneath withering eyebrows made Calvin's blood cold.

Vikus glared at Calvin with those soulless eyes, and he began to stand up. His anaemic physical state didn't deter him from edging forward confidently, a cold grin beginning to develop and spread across his face. With every footstep, his grin widened and became so much more…

Terrifying.

Calvin had never been frightened of Vikus. He was a good man who would never have terrorised Calvin or caused Calvin to fear him. And yet Calvin was here, terrified of Vikus.

Vikus lifted a bloodless finger and pointed at a bleeding wound on his chest, right where Calvin's bullet had penetrated weathered skin and a weathered heart. It was a black stain on his chest, and blackish blood seemed to ooze out of it.

Calvin wanted to scream, to vent out his horror, but to his shock he found the scream firmly lodged in his throat, suffocating him and preventing him from calling out. Vikus was now right next to him, and he raised his hand to bring it down on Calvin. His frigid fingers caressed Calvin's jaw, sending another ripple of icy pain through Calvin's body.

The hands crept down Calvin's face and arrived at his neck. They then coiled themselves around it and began to squeeze the life out of Calvin, causing him to choke and send spittle flying across the room. But worst of all, Vikus' soulless eyes now had a new inhabitant, as demons and fire stared down at Calvin with bitter resentment. Calvin's eyes locked onto Vikus' red irises, unable to look away from the monster in front of him.

"Ready, Calvin?"

Vikus suddenly evaporated into thin air, a ghostly cackle seeming to linger in the air even after the apparition it belonged to was long gone. Calvin's eyes now settled back on Snake's imposing figure, genuinely frightened out of his wits by Vikus. The mercenary held a syringe in his hand, and he jabbed it into Calvin's left arm.

"If you won't tell us anything," he sneered. "Then I'll destroy any hope you have left, of going back to your friends."

Calvin shook his head.

"Fine," Snake snorted. "I warned you."

Calvin's vision became increasingly distorted again, until more than three-quarters of the world in front of him was shrouded in darkness. He thrashed about in his chair, as raw fear began to wrap itself around his long-broken heart. Seized by panic, Calvin's pupils began to dilate as he stared intensely at the writhing darkness.

An object was placed on his chest, and that object began to move and squirm about on his body. Calvin angled his head to tilt it downwards, and he came face to face with a rat. A small rat, looking vulnerable and lost on the vast plain of his torso.

But then it turned to face him and his heart skipped a beat. Its face was bleeding and its eye sockets were empty, staring back at him with sheer darkness. It snarled and hissed at him, causing him to begin squirming in his seat as well. His eyes began to focus on the rat's tail as he became more and more fearful, jerking about violently in his seat.

The tail flicked up and down like a snake and seemed to slap itself down on his chest. The little rat edged forward towards his face, triggering his heart to pound harder and harder against his ribs.

The shards of darkness suddenly coalesced together to form a giant rat's face, and Calvin nearly ripped his straps off from sheer terror of seeing the rat. The fearsome image suddenly disappeared, as did the little rat on his chest. He retreated back into the darkness, panting desperately and praying to the darkness to stay where it was.

But the prayers ended up being futile as his image was suddenly scarred again, but this time it was a huge rat which crashed through the darkness. The carcass of the poor creature was hauled and dropped in front of him, nearly invoking another scream from him.

"This guy's name is Clawsin," Snake's voice somehow filtered through. "A bunch of us caught him near the plains of Tartarus, and we brought him back to the lab for Dr Schmidt to run some tests with him. The little shit's dead now, of course, but we were able to learn some interesting things while experimenting on him. Who knew the scientists hired us for pest control?"

Calvin recoiled at the sight of the rat's corpse. Clawsin was a rat's name he had become familiar with. He worked under the espionage wing of Ripred's division, and was part of the scout team which regularly checked out the advances of the foxes. To see someone he knew dead was not something unfamiliar to Calvin, but when he saw the scars and the wounds on Clawsin's body, he knew the rat had gone through unspeakable agony. It was hard for Calvin not to retch at the missing genitals and the innards which threatened to tumble out at any instant.

But his disgust and despair morphed into horror as the carcass seemed to take a life of its own. It invaded his memories as Calvin became flooded with images of all the little details on Clawsin's body. Calvin was becoming vulnerable.

He was becoming scared.

A normal white rat was placed next to him and he flinched in fear instantly. His gaps were punctuated with the slightest whimper, and he closed his eyes only to find himself bombarded constantly with images of Clawsin's body. And when he opened his eyes, he found himself paralysed by dread and trepidation at the sight of the small white rat, gazing at him with apparent hunger.

Calvin now yanked hard at the straps, trying to free himself from this cage where he was never safe. His mind was now a swamp of dead rat corpses, while his view was the white rat, which was causing his heart to crash with cymbalic screams every second he gazed at it. He could barely feel his body anymore. All the blood in his body rushed away from his face and fingers and chest.

To his utter relief, the white rat was removed from his vision by Snake. The mercenary seemed to leer down at him, before saying, "You will never speak to any of your rat friends ever again. If you want to continue speaking to the rest while they still live, I suggest you cooperate with us."

Despite the nightmarish experience he had endured, Calvin did the only thing he could still do- He shook his head.

Snake rose to his full height again and sighed. "We have caught everything but Underlander humans. We can go through every last animal down here, if you want to."

Calvin just gritted his teeth.

His world was suddenly enshrouded in darkness again, but this time the darkness looked much more organic, flowing together and swirling about with brilliant coordination. They began to part like the Red Sea, and Calvin's eyes zeroed in on a bat.

The bat flitted about the room harmlessly, landing in a corner and resting for a few seconds before launching itself off and flying about eagerly. Then it seemed to turn and hover in mid-air, facing Calvin.

Time slowed down. The shadows split apart to form millions of tiny faceless bats, all hovering near the real one. They stared at him intently, scrutinising his battered body and bruised soul with unseeing eyes. Then they began to fly towards him slowly, each beat of their wing sounding like an ominous drumbeat for the hellish nightmare which hurtled towards him.

Calvin stared at the black mass advancing with determination and resolve, traits which now deserted him in the face of terror which bore the smile of the night. So finally, finally, after what felt like hours of suffering…

Calvin screamed.

* * *

 **Trust me when I say this was a really difficult chapter to write. I really had to pour a lot of time and soul into creating this. I hope it satisfies you all, and although most of you are here to see Gregor kick ass, I honestly hope as well that you guys enjoy all these Calvin chapters. He's been sidelined a bit so far, but I'm slowly prodding him back into the story because he is one of the main characters.**

 **I pray this scene wasn't too disturbing for you all. If readers skipped it, here's a REALLY basic summary: Snake tortures Calvin for information about Regalia, tells Calvin that he is Calvin's real dad, and basically conditions Calvin to be scared of rats and bats, at least those two species SO FAR. I leave it up to your imagination as to how many animals Calvin developed a phobia for.**

 **Favourites/follows are highly encouraged. As usual, reviews are appreciated!**

 **Question: Do you think Snake really is Calvin's dad? Discuss in the reviews section!**


	22. Chapter 22: Brothers and Sisters

**Hello everyone! It's been a long week, hope y'all are up for another chapter. To those who didn't review this time round, PLEASE REVIEW. I'm gonna be brutally honest now- I'm considering ending this story here. I just don't know if I have the mental strength to persevere and although it can be fun, writing 5000 word chapters are really exhausting. But it's the reviews that keep me going. So please review! I really mean it this time.**

 **Anyway, thanks to: Clytuis, koipbuiop, phantom1299, HumanicHedgeHog, THExPOTxHEAD, TheGreatAthlon5(it's honestly great to hear from you again), Iron Carnotaur/A happy reader(how do you want me to address you?), DeathDrayanD, Moeez, NoahTheOverlander, and last but certainly not least, MarbleSky(it's been a VERY long time, but I'm so happy to hear from you again).**

 **This chapter does contain a little adult material, I hope you bear with it. But do note that there's a good dose of Gluxa inside as well! The chapter might be edited later on cos I think I might make some adjustments, but otherwise, Chapter 22 ladies and gentlemen!**

 **This chapter is written from Luxa's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Brothers and Sisters**

Luxa glanced down to make sure that she looked commanding enough. Sometimes, appearances could make all the difference in which army would remain standing at the end of the day.

The colour of her armour was royal purple, with brief flashes of gold streaking across the violet backdrop. She wore no visor- the people needed to see a leader who could confidently display her emotions, even in the face of overwhelming odds. If she had a visor, the people would think she was using it as a mask, a facade, to conceal her fear at fighting an army twice the size of theirs.

Little did they know that her face itself was the very mask they feared she would wear.

Luxa had been careless back in the Council hall, revealing her concern for Gregor's fate. Her people needed to see her as a strong-willed leader who didn't doubt herself. If she needed to emasculate the men around her or become more masculine, she didn't mind doing it. It was all about appearances, and the Underland, while not absurdly sexist, didn't quite entertain the idea of a powerful woman in charge.

But there was something about Gregor that had let her guard down and made her vulnerable. Was that true love? Did true love stealthily break down someone's pretence and expose them to the world? Did it weaken someone's resolve? Because if it did, then Luxa didn't want true love.

And yet, she knew that no matter what happened, she would never stop loving Gregor. Not because he was ridiculously muscled and unbelievably good-looking, but because he made her feel comfortable. He was an honourable, modest man who genuinely cared for the people around him. Soft? Perhaps. Bright? Not really. A great leader? Only if he wanted to be. Naive? Definitely.

But he was Gregor. He was the boy, the man, she had inexplicably fallen in love with, even if she had sworn it off following her parents' death.

Every year she would visit her parents' tombs and talk to them about what was going on. She wondered aloud if they would have approved of her relationship with an Overlander, who was nothing but a lowly peasant in the fast-paced world that roared above their heads. Down there, she was the pinnacle of royalty, the one who held power in a well-established hierarchy.

But as fate would have it, they would be entwined together in the story of each other's life. She remembered the nights where she would stand on her balcony, looking at the city which had fallen asleep, and bitterly cursing how she couldn't sleep with peace and tranquillity. Conrad, though being nothing like Gregor, had done his absolute best to make her life better. She appreciated his attempts and loved him for it, but she wouldn't have died for him. She just didn't love him enough for that.

The only person who filled that void was Gregor, and now he was gone, sacrificing himself because he couldn't find meaning and purpose here in Regalia. Luxa tried to reason with herself how it was mere infatuation with him, how they were never destined to live a happy life together, how they were better off in the different worlds they belonged to.

But reason didn't hold a candle to emotion and sentiment. If it was mere infatuation, Gregor would have been a blot in her memory. Instead, he became the focal point of it, as every joyful moment in her mind seemed to be spent with him. He made her laugh, smile, and forget the tragic fall of the mighty city. Fate would have them as star-crossed lovers, but perhaps there was a happy ending to this tale.

Somehow, against the ruthless forces of nature, this pair of stars could disappear into the galaxy, holding each other close forever.

It wasn't to be anymore. If Gregor was lucky, he would meet a fast death at the hands of her uncle. But she wouldn't accept he was dead until she saw his body. Vikus had told her to hold out hope to the end, and she would honour him by doing so.

The whole world around her began to blur, and whirled around furiously until she was back on her balcony, overlooking the city with Gregor at her side. It had been one of those rare days of peace, when the rebels seemed far away and a distant worry, when the foxes had been thoroughly beaten and the Overlanders had retreated. Those days really were rare.

"Can I sing you a song?" he had asked.

"How romantic," she had said scornfully. "I didn't know you were the type."

"Well," he had replied, shrugging uncomfortably. "My dad used to play this on the guitar. It was one of his favourite songs."

"Go ahead," she told him, a cocky smile spreading across her face. No way this was going to end up being romantic at all.

He opened his mouth in response, and in a smooth baritone, sang, " _Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you."_

" _Shall I stay?"_ he continued. " _Would it be a sin?"_

Luxa giggled.

" _If I can't help falling in love with you._ "

He was good at singing. Luxa remembered being very impressed.

He reached out and took her hand gently, revelling in her touch. Looking more euphoric by the second, he continued, " _Take my hand. Take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you."_

 _For I._

 _Can't help._

 _Falling in love._

 _With._

 _You._

Gregor gazed into her eyes, and at that moment, nothing else had mattered in Luxa's life. All worries and distractions had been exiled for the time being, and she savoured the brief glimpse of joy in Gregor's eyes. For a young man who had to bear the brunt of so much tragedy and pain, there was still so much good left in him. It truly astounded her that he still believed in doing the right thing.

She remembered pondering then whether, perhaps, one day it would all change and Gregor would fall into the abyss. In retrospect, Luxa could never have seen how tormented Gregor would become in the future. They had fooled themselves into believing that the Battle of Regalia was the biggest obstacle they would ever have to face.

But for now, she could still hope.

"Your Majesty!" Perdita called out.

Luxa turned to face Perdita, who trudged towards her wearily. "Bloodclaw and Gorger are leading their forces to the battlefield. They should be here within twenty minutes."

"And the Fount?"Luxa asked.

"They come from the east side of the plains, but our scouts report that the two armies will merge together in front of us," Perdita reported.

"Take no risks," Luxa replied firmly. "Tell Lapblood that should the Fount come from the east side, it is her responsibility to lead her forces against them. I don't want any conflict of interest to be created for the gnawers under her."

"Understood, your Majesty," Perdita responded respectfully, bowing down and rushing off to instruct Lapblood of the strategic change.

The moment Perdita was out of earshot, Luxa unleashed an exasperated sigh. She hadn't been this distressed and emotionally confused for months. The onslaught of rumours, betrayals, battles and losses had taken a toll on her and had almost overwhelmed the entire city. And now, she had taken the gutsy decision to marshall their forces to the plains just outside the city walls, so as to take the fight away from the innocent civilians.

But this move wasn't tactically sound, because they lost the advantage of higher ground. Regalia's walls were difficult to breach for any force- even the schemers had struggled to penetrate it initially. Yet here Luxa was, having made the call to lead them out onto the battlefield.

"Is something bothering you?" Aurora asked.

Another sigh and a couple of profanities spilled out from Luxa's mouth, before she replied, "Those gnawers fighting against us are driven to fight because of my mistakes. This whole war is my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I let discrimination against them persist and didn't do anything to prevent it. I mean that I took part in oppressing them and didn't take control of my soldiers enough. I mean that I didn't listen to the people who cared for me until it was far too late."

"The price to pay for your pride," Aurora said bluntly.

Under normal circumstances, Luxa wouldn't allow anyone to say that to her and would punish them ruthlessly for uttering such an insult to her personal dignity. But having matured and having seen where pride had gotten her, she decided to accept the criticism gratefully. Besides, this was Aurora. At the end of the day, her bond truly cared for her and even if it did come across as being blatantly disrespectful, Luxa didn't mind. It was about time for her to start listening.

"I find it perplexing that there can be such a drastic difference in the way you treat your bonds," Ripred drawled, as he trotted up to her.

"You should be resting," she said, with a hint of reproachfulness in her voice. "Your injuries are not to be taken lightly."

Even now, having seen him a number of times since his fight with Gregor, Lux still shuddered when she gazed at his lifeless left eye. The blood was cleared up to hide the gore of the wound, but the stark white now that filled the void seemed to make Ripred appear all the more frightening.

And Luxa knew that it was more than just a physical wound, but an emotional one as well. She never quite understood the dynamics of the relationship between Gregor and Ripred or the chemistry they had developed together, but it was evident to everyone that the both of them held each other in high esteem, even if they didn't articulate it. As ragers, they had a complex bond which was perhaps beyond any comprehension, including people close to them like Luxa.

To blind Ripred in one eye was a clear signal of the power shuffle in Regalia and the Underland. Ripred, once the gold standard for fighting, had been beaten by his protégé, his apprentice, his student. Gregor was now the one raising the bar, and Ripred, in his old age, had now fallen behind.

But underlying the wound was a sense of emotional betrayal, and Luxa wondered if their relationship would ever truly heal. Judging from the reports she had been given, Gregor was apparently seconds away from delivering a killing blow to end Ripred's miserable life. But out of the blue, the Warrior had hesitated and ended up dropping his blade. Given that Ripred and Gregor had been rather guarded with their words over the last few days, it was unlikely for anyone to find out what truly transpired between Gregor lifting his blade and then dropping it suddenly.

Luxa was jolted back to reality by Ripred's voice. "You rarely display such concern for me," Ripred chuckled, almost disdainfully. "Someone's getting soft."

"A lot has happened over the last few days," Luxa replied wearily. "Perhaps we should leave the banter for happier times."

Ripred's expression seemed to darken at her words, but he quickly bounced back. "I'll never quite understand the obsession with grim moodiness youngsters have these days. It's come to the point of self-parody already."

"War is no time for jokes, Ripred," Luxa responded sternly.

"Aye, but a couple of jokes now would be harmless at best, no?"

Luxa ignored his remark and stared ahead, hoping each second would pass faster so they could just start fighting already. As every minute crawled by the soldiers became more restless and nervous, which was not the ideal mental state to be in before battle. "How do you defeat them, Ripred?" she wondered aloud.

"You're asking that now? You do realise we're minutes away from fighting, right?"

"Not in battle," she clarified calmly, trying her best not to get irked by his sharp and unforgiving sarcasm. "How do we defeat a cult's ideology?"

"Much better," the old rat snorted, "although it still isn't exactly the most appropriate time to discuss ideology."

"Just answer the question," Luxa sighed in frustration.

"Ideology is what happens when a social construct is made to seem natural," Ripred explained. "That's why it's so sinister. It makes people develop a true belief in something, and that's how radicalism and extremism is spawned. When these people are indoctrinated to truly place their faith in something, it becomes nearly impossible for their beliefs to change. Because to them, no logic can break down whatever they have devoted their heart and soul towards."

"What's your point?" Luxa asked.

"Patience, pup," Ripred replied with a low growl. "I'm teaching an amateur here, not someone who possesses a similar intellect to mine."

"Fine," Luxa replied, choosing to swallow her pride for once while dealing with him. By Sandwich's holy name, Ripred was truly insufferable when he was in the mood.

"Ideology can take many different forms," Ripred went on, "but in the case of the cult, it's pretty much impossible for us to beat their ideology. As long as people believe that the Bane is a god, the cult will never truly die. And there's nothing we can do against the power of belief. It compels the best of us to do the worst of things."

"All that talk just to say it's impossible to beat," Luxa smirked.

"I was just educating the queen," Ripred shot back. "But yes, it's impossible to beat them. I mean, if I could show them what he was like back when he was still called Pearlpelt, I'm not so sure everybody would continue worshipping him. You can ask Gregor about that one, I do believe he saw the little shit sucking his own tail."

"A disgrace to his mother's and father's name," Luxa said with a hint of a smile. Then, she decided to send the mood plummeting towards darkness again. "Do you really forgive Gregor for what he did?"

Ripred turned away and eyed Regalia's forces, which was arranged in rigid formations. His eye then shifted up and the rat just looked around aimlessly for a while.

"Ripred?" Luxa called out to him softly.

Ripred's lone eye stopped wandering about, and the old rat sighed. "I'll tell you what I told him years ago- Life is short, and there are only a few good things in it, really."

"What are you trying to say?" Luxa asked.

Ripred looked up at her with his solitary eye and said, "I'm trying to say that Gregor is the best that we're going to get, at least in the near future. He's an honourable man who truly cares for this city. I can't say the same for many other men."

He then broke eye contact with Luxa and continued to gaze about for a while, before adding, "So yes, I forgive him. I won't say that I agree with his point of view, but at the end of the day I owe him as much as he owes me. And that's something which can never be forgotten."

Ripred's profound monologue was abruptly interrupted by blaring horns from the Regalians. "Battle positions!" Perdita roared, and the commanders started to readjust their positions as both armies came into view. The soldiers shifted like disciplined ants, shuffling across each other quickly under the gaze of their mighty queen.

Time for the mask to be put on. As she had practised in the mirror countless times, Luxa's body naturally flowed into place, gracefully displaying her confidence as she radiated an aura of authority. Body language sometimes spoke more than words.

"And now," Ripred said steadily, "the fall of the Underland begins."

Those words were more poignant today than ever before. The Underland's relentless pursuit of its own self-destruction had finally reached its zenith today, as the superpowers met together for what looked like a final clash, before the schemers swooped in and devoured whatever was left of the stragglers.

Bloodclaw was leading the forces from the front, but Luxa could clearly the silver hide of Gorger, his figure perched on a rock, overseeing the battlefield laid out in front of him. The scouts had predicted correctly that York's forces would merge together with Gorger's. Her heavy built uncle, meanwhile, trudged in front of his army, his imposing build and posture suggesting that he meant business today.

But Luxa's blood froze when she saw six soldiers marching behind him, placing an object on their shoulders…

It was…

It was…

Gregor's body. The black armour was unmistakable even from that distance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ripred stiffen slightly. "It is as I feared," he mumbled.

Luxa felt her world starting to whirl around her, causing her to feel dizzy and unfocused. Everything seemed to crash into her at once, the body, the memories, the shock, and…

And…

So much pain. Her heart had been broken before when she thought Gregor had died, but out here in the battlefield, she was being forced to cope with it while maintaining her performance of stoicity. The bitterness and pain felt so much more unbearable now that she had to conceal it rather than venting it out.

Any tears that welled to her eyes were quickly shut down. Crying wouldn't bring Gregor back from the dead, but her people needed her to be strong now.

"Your Majesty," Ripred's voice cut through the internal weeping. "I do believe we got more than we bargained for. And it's not exactly pleasant."

Luxa's eyes scanned the plains and they arrived at a stocky figure who bore rusty armour. The faded gold, however, gave his identity away instantly.

"Conrad," she breathed.

The former king seemed to nod in her direction, before walking towards Gorger and taking his place on the gargantuan rock as well, although Luxa was conscious of the fact that Conrad had deliberately placed himself behind Gorger. The hierarchy here was crystal clear, which made Luxa sneer slightly. The king had traded his position of privilege to be another slave of Gorger's.

And although she couldn't deny she still harboured slight feelings of affection towards him, standing alongside the rat who killed her parents wasn't going to help his cause when he ended up grovelling at her feet, begging for mercy.

 _If_ he ended up grovelling at her feet, begging for mercy. Beating the massive army in front of them was no easy feat. In fact, they probably held the advantage in numbers, while the presence of ragers for Regalia had been rendered obsolete, now that Ripred was half-blind and Gregor was…

Gregor was…

Gone.

Sentimentality, rage and disbelief all got stirred together and churned out a chaotic mess in Luxa's heart. She swore under her breath that neither York nor Gorger would leave the battlefield alive at the end of the day, whether victory belonged to their armies or not.

"What we have here today," Bloodclaw boomed, "is the Bane granting us justice from heaven!"

His words elicited loud and crude cheers from the rats, while the soldiers of the Fount just looked ahead grimly.

"First of all, I would like to announce a convert to our religion," Bloodclaw continued. "He is the former king of Regalia, and though he has committed many wrongs against our brotherhood, the Bane has told me in a dream that he wishes for Conrad to be forgiven and pardoned for his sins against us. This is a sign from heaven, that the balance of power and the scales of justice have shifted in our favour."

A number of rats clearly looked disgruntled and bothered by Conrad's presence amongst their ranks, but the large majority of them proceeded to cheer anyway.

"He's more charismatic than his brother," Ripred observed of Bloodclaw.

"No," Luxa disagreed tersely. "They're just gullible."

"Are we not?" Ripred replied philosophically, managing a weak smile before turning his attention back to Bloodclaw.

"And the Great Emperor Gorger has taken his place on earth, as a prophet sent by the Bane!" Bloodclaw hollered. "He was resurrected from the dead by our god, and now he is here to lead us to salvation!"

"I'm not so sure releasing Gorger was a good idea," Ripred mused.

"It wasn't," Luxa shrugged. "It was a terrible idea, but he was just as important a factor as Gregor in the exchange for the hostages."

"And here we are now," Ripred said, unable to keep out the tinge of bitterness in his voice. "Gregor's dead, Gorger's alive and in power. Perhaps we should have left the hostages to die."

Luxa shook her head. "Gregor wouldn't have wanted that."

"He's idealistic," Ripred said bluntly. "It makes him weak and it makes him a fool. He couldn't make the hard decisions, and now he's paid the ultimate price for it."

Luxa's blood went sub-zero as the thought of having lost Gregor once again conquered her mind, instilling so much pain and anguish in her heart. "Perdita!" she called out.

"Yes, your Majesty!" the general replied. "What orders from the crown?"

"Kill every last one of them," Luxa said coldly. "Leave none alive. Lapblood's forces are to fight York's and the humans will fight Gorger's forces. There is to be no mercy shown to any enemy."

"Aye, your Majesty," Perdita acknowledged, before relaying the order to the commanders under her.

"I hope you don't regret that," Ripred told her. "You know what? I'm just going to go ahead and bet a life full of shrimp with cream sauce that you'll regret it."

"It's easy to bet now," Luxa responded icily,"when you know there's a chance to return back home."

"How optimistic, your Majesty," Ripred snorted sarcastically. "This is exactly the kind of attitude your people need right now from their mighty queen."

The six soldiers carrying Gregor's body marched forward solemnly and gently lay Gregor's body down. Luxa balled her fists as tensions across the plains heightened considerably. It was hard not to notice how every single Regalian's head dipped in mourning at the sight of Gregor's body.

Bloodclaw strode across haughtily, grinning throughout. Standing in front of Gregor's body, he declared, "And now our enemy has been vanquished! By the power of the Bane, he has smote his archenemy and left him to rot in front of his people. Such is the mercy of our Lord- he leaves no evil alive in his wake."

Despite the hyperbolic rhetoric that promulgated rabid extremism, some of the rats still looked guilty when they looked at Gregor's body. Some of these rats had once taken part in honouring the Warrior, who was undoubtedly the reason why Regalia still stood till today. The hateful radicalism preached by Bloodclaw and disguised euphemistically as "justice" was not convincing to some members of the cult.

And perhaps, in remembrance of Gregor, Luxa could capitalise on that. She could offer innocents a chance to step away from this horror.

"Gnawers!" she called out. "I cannot speak for all of you, but for those who still have doubts, doubt no further! This day does not have to involve unnecessary bloodshed if we choose to take a path of peace. So to all those who do not desire war, return to the city! We will protect you from this massacre."

"Cheap words," Bloodclaw thundered, a wry grin flowing across his grizzly features, "for a queen who has failed her people. These gnawers choose the Bane because they realise the scum that control Regalia will never give them a chance to be treated equally. They have a filthy whore for a queen and a pathetic old gnawer for a general. The traitor Ripred has been rewarded by Regalia for his crimes against his fellow gnawers, so every rat that stands alongside Ripred is as traitorous as he is!"

Bloodclaw's stream of invective was surprisingly powerful, and Luxa found her words caught in her throat as she struggled to conjure up a response to his speech. In the end, she settled for saying, "We have a chance to choose today, and that choice CAN be peace. Gnawers, if we can end this day without bloodshed, I promise to put myself and the Council up on trial, with our fate to be decided by the people."

Her voice began to hurt from the strain of having to yell across the battlefield, but Luxa refused to drink water. There were to be no signs of weakness.

"SHE LIES!" a familiar voice bellowed.

Luxa's eyes involuntarily widened as a figure behind Gorger walked forward to speak up. Conrad, in all his jaded glory, seemed to rise out of the abyss like a demon rising from hell. With passion burning in his eyes that, in all honesty, made her yearn for him sometimes, he said, "I know Queen Luxa well! And I can tell you that she will not put herself on trial. She lies to survive because that is part of her character. While I was still married to her, she went to find the Warrior and sleep with him. She had an affair behind MY BACK!"

The former king stared at her defiantly, his proud expression provoking her to respond to him. But Ripred quickly nudged her and whispered, "Don't get baited, pup. It would not be wise to fight his words with yours, because nine times out of ten he slays you in that fight."

It was true. In a verbal sparring session, Conrad was difficult to best. Even Ripred struggled to keep up in a battle of wits in him, which suggested how eloquent and quick-thinking her former husband could be if he was "on the ropes". A favourite phrase of Gregor's whenever he described someone who was close to defeat, although Luxa never quite understood what the "ropes" referred to.

But even though she recognised the need to remain silent in the face of Conrad's barrage of allegations, Luxa couldn't help but feel her pride take a fatal blow, especially with intense whispers screaming across the battlefield. People knew that she began sleeping with Gregor since Conrad left, so the idea of having an affair with him while Conrad was still around was not inconceivable, although it was untrue.

Luxa had been a faithful wife to Conrad, at least in terms of who she slept with while she was married to him. Of course, it was worth noting she never actually did consummate her marriage, but the fact remained that she had never slept with anyone behind his back. Yet here he was, spreading vile rumours of the state of their marriage and publicly shaming her. Scandalised by the impropriety of the accusation, she knew she had to restore her reputation immediately.

Perhaps sensing her anger and disgust, Ripred warned her again, "Think this through, your Majesty. Only he stands to gain if you choose to blow up at him."

Despite her brewing anger and sense of loss, she could hear Ripred's earnestness shining through his tone. Realising how Conrad could flip the situation on its head and against her, Luxa did what was completely unexpected.

She listened to Ripred and shut her mouth.

A few puzzled and bewildered glances were cast in her direction by her own soldiers, but they quickly shut up when they realised their queen had no intention of speaking. Even Perdita called out anxiously, "He's insulted your honour, your Majesty. Will you not respond?"

"He's not worth my time," Luxa replied bluntly, but loud enough for the whole Regalian army to hear her.

Conrad actually looked surprised and mildly irritated that she didn't react to his provocative remarks. He backed down, while Gorger seemed to smirk in amusement at Luxa's lukewarm response.

Bloodclaw cleared his throat and continued, "As you can see, there stands the mighty devil- Queen Luxa. Long has her reign of tyranny punished those who were weak and oppressed rather than liberating them. But the Bane will see fit that today, she pays for her sins! Just like the Warrior behind me, she will be sent into the fires of hell by gnawer teeth and claws, just like her cursed parents!"

Without warning, Gregor's body jerked upwards and in a blur, his arm was wrapped around Bloodclaw's neck, with Sandwich's magnificent blade gleaming brilliantly as its owner placed it against Bloodclaw's throat.

"I'm not so sure about that!" Gregor yelled.

Within seconds, Luxa's heart burst with relief and joy, while every single Regalian belted out a deafening roar of ecstasy. Even Perdita managed a smile, while Ripred just shook his head and said, "Why does he revel in pretending to be dead?"

Meanwhile, the rats all gasped in shock and began to gnash their teeth furiously, perhaps vexed and confused as to how the mighty Bane had failed to exact justice for them. Conrad looked like he was about to throw up, while Gorger merely raised an eyebrow.

Gratitude to fate flooded Luxa's soul as all the pain sudddenly dissipated, killed by the appearance of the man she loved. Even as she deliberately concealed her excitement, she couldn't help but allow the smallest of smiles to play on her lips

"We don't have to fight!" Gregor shouted as his voice reverberated through the plains of the Underland. "We can end this peacefully! Just put some faith in Regalia again!"

"What about the Bane?" one rat called out. "He will condemn us to hell should we betray his ideals!"

"The Bane's not a god!" Gregor replied scornfully. "I killed him myself, and he's no real leader. Because any leader who sends his followers to their death is no leader, but a complete psychopath."

"Blasphemy!" Bloodclaw spat. "The heretics will burn!"

"Maybe the Bane was once good," Gregor went on, ignoring Bloodclaw and pressing the sword even harder against the rat's skin, "but he became a symbol of evil because he was just like one of you. He was converted by a bunch of power-hungry maniacs! Don't make the same mistake he made."

When they didn't respond, Gregor begged, "Please, I don't want to do this."

Gregor's pleading sounded so genuine and sincere that some of the rats seemed to back away hesitantly, which was surprising since most of them had committed themselves to the dogma of the cult. But with the "resurrection" of Gregor, the foundations of their faith seemed to be shakened.

Luxa afforded herself a small smile. What looked like a tragic affair was becoming a steadily hopeful one.

And then Bloodclaw roared, "THE FOUNT BETRAYED US! KILL THEM ALL! LEAVE THE REGALIANS FOR ANOTHER TIME!"

Gregor slit Bloodclaw's throat and shoved his body down, leaving the rat to suffocate from his own blood.

But it was far too late.

"ATTACK!" Gorger yelled.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter! We're getting our next major battle since, what, chapter 18? It kinda depends on what you consider a "major battle". Will leave it up to y'all in the reviews section.**

 **Anyway, it's worth pointing out that this chapter was heavily influenced by numerous chapters in my series, but I still made a point to make it original. For instance, Bloodclaw riling up the rats was a callback to how Bloodblur, in book 2, riled the people up to fight in chapter 14. I guess it was an unintended homage to my second story, but I hope you didn't mind. This chapter still maintains its originality.**

 **Favourites/Follows please! Reviews are encouraged, of course. I really really need them.**

 **Question: What is your favourite battle scene in the original series, and what is your favourite battle scene in my trilogy? Share your thoughts in the reviews section!**


	23. Chapter 23: York

**Hello everyone, I hope you're glad to see this chapter. I've decided not to quit Fanfiction as of now, but I might take a hiatus for a while so I can recover and carry on producing quality chapters for y'all. Anyway, the following people have my genuine gratitude for giving me hope just when all seemed lost: Iron Carnotaur, koipbuiop, pyro159, Moeez, a guest reader (Hi! I can answer your question on how to write, but can you make the question more specific please?), HumanicHedgeHog, BLACKWOLFUNDER (haven't seen you in a while, glad to hear from you again), Randonfire, apukwa, Dragonfire, another guest reader, phantom1299, Im Blu, MarbleSky, CheesetothePower (nice to meet you!), Malorn FairyTail (nice to meet you too!), DeathDrayanD, NoahTheOverlander, The Writer of Mistakes and Bigboyyeah55 (thanks for that message).**

 **All the people who reviewed gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe this story is still worth my time. I still feel tired and lonely, but if you can please still lend me your support. To those who still refused to review, well… I don't know what to say. I have nothing to say to you guys.**

 **Hope you guys like this chapter, I put in special effort for this.**

 **This chapter is written from Luxa's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23: York**

"SHIFT!" York bellowed.

The entire Fount army spun to face the rats and backtracked with blinding speed to create more space for themselves, unsheathing their weapons at the same time. They then closed ranks and locked shields, forming a solid block of metal and muscle in the middle of the battlefield, while York and his generals stood at one side, facing the army of rats.

Gregor shoved Bloodclaw's lifeless corpse to one side, obviously disgusted and frustrated by the turn of events sparked by the grey rat's vituperation. He then shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable in the armour he was wearing. It was then that Luxa realised that the black armour wasn't one of those forged by Regalia's armoury and designed by Miravet.

York had taken a suit of black armour and given it to Gregor so as to reinforce his presence on the battlefield, while providing him with a layer of protection simultaneously. Her uncle had spared the love of her life and even prepared him for battle.

Had York been on her side all this while?

She didn't know what to make of the situation. All the fog had cleared, but some mist still floated about, preventing her from seeing the big picture. What on earth was going on now, and what on earth had happened before hand?

The rats, armed with overzealous dedication to their cause which was undergirded by their devotion to the Bane, began to unleash a series of high-pitched squeaks, which raced along the plains and across the Underland.

Then they began to charge.

Within seconds, they had closed the gap between them and the Fount, slamming headfirst into the shields that greeted them. The whole Fount army stumbled back slightly, perhaps overwhelmed by the fervour and force which the rats drove at them. The rats then reared back before hurling themselves at the shields again, forcing the Fount's forces back.

A number broke away from the main pack and made their way over to where Gregor was standing. He instantly pivoted into position, adjusting his body for the coming attacks. A couple of rats peeled ahead off the rest to try and get him first, but two firm strokes of the blade later, they lay at his feet, their skulls breaking from the strikes he delivered.

The rest threw themselves at him wildly, slashing their claws at him with unbridled ferocity, forcing him to take a couple of steps back while parrying the blows. One rat dashed forward to attack his left side, but Gregor skilfully blocked the attack with his dagger, before responding by slashing the rat's throat.

At that moment, his body seemed to sag slightly, as if he hated what he was doing. Luxa couldn't believe her eyes- Was he feeling sorry for the rats? After they'd betrayed Regalia and attacked him with the intention of taking his life? Why in Sandwich's good name would he regret killing a goddamn rat, after all they'd done?

That glimpse into Gregor's psyche was suddenly overshadowed by a masterful display from the Underland's greatest rager, as he promptly recovered to bat away multiple attacks coming from multiple angles. With his hand movements flowing about like an artist at work, he slashed and feinted, taking down three rats in front of him with poise. Gregor was turning sword fighting and brutality into an art form.

But the beauty quickly plummeted into hard, gritty fighting again, as a swarm of rats just kept launching attack after attack relentlessly. Gregor struck the snout of one rat with his dagger, while fending another rat off with his sword. He then produced a slick feint towards the rat's throat, before pulling back in the last second to deliver a crushing blow to its skull.

He then proceeded to spin to his left again and block an attack from a salivating rat, before swinging his blade right into its jaw. With a yelp of pain, the rat stumbled back, its jaw clearly dislocated as it hung loose. Gregor was then forced to turn all the way over to his right, and he drove his blade right between the eyes of an onrushing rat.

He yanked his blade out of the rat and severed the limb of a rat charging straight down his centre, ending its misery quickly by stabbing his dagger through its skull and into its brain. The rat with the dislocated jaw tried to rush straight at him, but he was quick enough to slash its jugular vein, causing blood to gush out like torrential rapids.

Luxa could only watch on in amazement as he sprang into the air to intercept a leaping rat, nearly cleaving its head off its shoulders with a powerful swing of his sword. The moment he landed on the ground, he spun to face the rat again, demonstrating an impressive sense of awareness about his surroundings.

Was it really so surprising that Ripred was beaten by him?

The corpse of the rat killed in mid-air landed with a dramatic thud, distracting the other rats for a split second. And that split second was all Gregor needed.

He immediately closed the gap and began to slash wildly, causing flesh and blood to fly everywhere. Gregor's armour was now oily in bloody, and it was hard to ignore some of the unsavoury remains of rats that stuck to it. Yet he continued to wade through the rats, striking and blocking with a blistering reaction speed unlike any found in the Underland.

One rat was able to catch him off guard and slam into him from behind, but Gregor was able to scramble to his feet and avoid its snapping jaws. He killed it swiftly, sticking his blade through its mouth and out of its head, and then he turned around just in time to parry another attack. He then sent the rat flying back with a vicious kick, and it crashed into some of its fellow comrades with force.

Gregor stood there panting away, nimbly dancing out of range whenever a rat tried to attack him. The moment he regained full strength and focus, he was back on the offensive, launching another set of ruthless attacks which left most of them dead.

A rat which was lying motionless on the ground suddenly hauled itself to its feet and threw itself at Gregor, who took it down with a firm strike from his blade. Yet despite being presumed dead by both Gregor and Luxa, it got to its feet again and trotted towards Gregor, its ear dangling and its face drenched in blood. Gregor struck it down for a third time, and yet it still hadn't given up. With laboured breathing, it hauled itself to its feet and staggered forward, only for Gregor to finally kill it off by slashing its throat.

At that moment Luxa realised the lengths these fanatics would go to in order to fight for the Bane. As if on cue, half a dozen rats somehow found the strength to push themselves back on their feet, despite the critical physical state they were in. They were all soaked in blood and looked like they had dug themselves out of a grave, but still they hobbled towards Gregor with dogged determination.

These rats would fight to the absolute end for their cause. Only when their heart stopped beating and they stopped breathing would their fight come to an end.

Gregor, perhaps stunned by the fortitude of the crippled rats in front of him, took a few steps back to maintain his composure and reinvigorate himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he took another step back before charging at the rats in front of him, scattering their formation and halting their advance.

Despite being uncontrollably fixated on Gregor's battle, Luxa's eyes flitted over to see how the Fount's army was doing against the big bulk of the army of rats. And the situation was worrying enough to draw her attention away from Gregor for a while.

The Fount's line was on the verge of breaking and forming cracks, which would allow the rats to exert more pressure on the forces and disturb their entire formation. Right now, the front line kept flexing inwards every time a wave of rats rammed their heads into the shields. Occasionally, one soldier would find the opportunity to hack down a rat in front of him, but most of the time the soldiers were being pinned back and were forced to focus on holding their position.

A number of generals and commanders barked out orders, but they were drowned out by the furious screeching by the rats, while their tactics themselves seemed to be ineffective against the reckless hate that faced them.

Suddenly, a cloud of arrows flew through the air, before diving and hitting the army of rats. A small group of archers appeared on the Eastern side of the plains, with the army of rats just within range of the arrows.

A pack of rats quickly broke away from the main army and made a mad dash for the archers, who weren't guarded by infantry forces and were left horribly exposed. They launched arrow after arrow at the onrushing rats, but the arrows might as well have been insignificant insects to such a rabid cult. Ignoring the arrows which rained down on them furiously and which penetrated their skin, the rats somehow closed in on the archers and unleashed a wild assault, tearing into their throats and even trying to rip some of their heads off.

The archers quickly switched to swords, but they were hopelessly outnumbered and outpowered by the rats. Within moments, they were in full retreat, trying their best to shoot down any rats which still pursued them, while the stragglers were left behind, at the mercy of the merciless gnawers.

Luxa raised an eyebrow as the remaining archers positioned themselves behind their infantry to shoot at the rats. There was no way they were able to hit the rats from that kind of range, even for the most adept archer on the battlefield. And sure enough, just as they were about to fire, they received an order to stand down by the general. One of the most powerful weapons they had against the rats couldn't even be used, let alone to devastating effect.

The generals quickly made another signal and an aerial assault was suddenly in progress, as fliers took off from concealed positions and lowered themselves enough for the human riders to swing their weapons at the rats. But the rats shocked everyone on the battlefield by leaping up thirteen feet in the air and attacking the fliers, almost as if…

Almost as if they were being lifted up by a divine force.

Almost as if the Bane himself was offering his body for them to clamber up and leap at their bitter enemies.

Of course, no such power existed. But the lengths these rats could go to, the physical boundaries they pushed, was just… Was just incomprehensible. Fuelled by belief and a love for the Bane alone, these rats were performing feats which seemed to defy nature.

They savagely sank their razor-sharp teeth into the throats of fliers and brought them down to the ground, where they were subsequently mobbed by a small group of rats and torn to pieces. It was heart-wrenching to watch and Luxa couldn't help but let her facade drop for a second, as she turned paler than pale with fear.

Aurora's head dipped significantly, as she tried to avoid seeing the trauma her fellow brothers and sisters were being subjected to. It was painful enough to see them suffer, but to watch your own bond suffering so much was incredibly moving for Luxa. Even if Aurora closed her eyes, her ears would still pick up on the screams of anguish being emitted by her fellow fliers. Words couldn't describe how agonising it was for her.

"Your Majesty, do we attack?" Perdita asked.

Despite the setbacks the Fount faced, Luxa hesitated. They had put her through the vilest shit just to prove a point, and had punished her by trying to take Gregor away from her. Granted they had their reasons, but Luxa couldn't help but feel bitter resentment as she remembered how tormented and hopeless she was at one point, left alone as the only ray of light in complete darkness. They had left her frightened and vulnerable, a combination of feelings which had not felt so raw ever since her parents had left her in a small cave to protect her from Gorger.

"Your Majesty?" Perdita asked again.

Luxa's eyes narrowed.

"Oh for Sandwich's sake, Luxa, stop being a brat!" Ripred snapped. "They need our goddamn help!"

Luxa gazed at the Fount's forces, desperately holding out against overzealous passion personified.

"Did the spinners and diggers agree to fight with us?" Luxa asked Perdita abruptly.

"No, your Majesty," Perdita informed her. "They wanted to stay neutral in this fight. So did the nibblers and the crawlers. No other force will interfere in this battle."

So the powerhouses of the Underland were left alone to duke it out in a battle for supremacy, with the minor players in this game merely taking a backseat to ensure survival. How characteristic of the Underland.

"Luxa," Ripred snarled, his tone revealing not only anger and disdain, but despair as well. "Gorger has to be stopped."

Luxa's vision suddenly seemed to narrow down and zoom in on the newly crowned king of the rats. Figuratively crowned, of course. Luxa winced as she remembered how he had jammed her parents' crown on his head, not only to make him feel superior but also to serve as a trophy for him to gloat over.

And now, staring at the one being she hated above all else, Luxa knew what she had to do. If she didn't act, Gorger would manipulate these naive gnawers into fighting for him, rather than the Bane. Such was the nature of gullible followers who blindly threw themselves at deities and proclaimed themselves as ardent believers. No matter how good the cause was, as long as evil people led it, the cause would be perverted and corrupted into a vehicle for greed and destruction.

But more than just her hate for Gorger was her love for those fighting against him. She glanced at Gregor, who was now surrounded by mounds upon mounds of dead gnawer carcasses, piled unceremoniously above each other. York, meanwhile, had made the brave decision to throw himself into battle with his men, fighting bitterly against unceasing barrage of attacks.

Luxa now looked at Aurora, who had turned her head to face Luxa, her eyes pleading to fly into battle to help her friends.

And Luxa finally understood what it meant to be queen.

"Send our fliers in," she told Perdita. "Make sure they delay the gnawers long enough for our infantry reinforcements to arrive. Send the archers to support the fliers."

Perdita actually looked relieved and grateful as she replied, "Yes, your Majesty!" She then turned to the army and yelled, "PROTECT OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS! PROTECT THE FOUNT!"

With a low purr of approval, the fliers took off in magnificent fashion, soaring above the battlefield like blackened clouds bearing fire and brimstone. They then made a mighty plunge towards the rats, crashing into them and sending bodies flying all over the place.

The archers, following closely behind, quickly capitalised on the distraction to fire wave after wave of arrows at the gnawers, making their already disorganised force even more disorganised. Luxa could hear Perdita hollering at the archers to fire at will, taking down even the resolute and tenacious rats. The fliers then flew out of the area, before diving down once more to attack the rats.

The rats, however, thrived in discord rather than harmony. They quickly arranged themselves in the most convoluted, messy structure Luxa had ever seen, before leaping up to take out the fliers. Despite the hail of arrows that the archers let loose into a rat, he would continue to fight on, and when dead he would be replaced by three or four more rats.

Then the Fount came to Regalia's aid now. "CHARGE!" York shouted, and the Fount's infantry barreled forward alongside their king, crashing into the rats and hacking them to death. The Fount's aerial army finally recovered and joined their Regalian brethren, rocketing towards the battlefield with intent once more.

Luxa tapped Aurora lightly and said, "Let's go in."

She then turned to Ripred and said, "Stay here. We can't afford to let you get hurt."

"That's right," Ripred grumbled. "Leave me here so you and Gregor can claim all the glory. I see how it is."

Smirking slightly, Luxa just winked at him as Aurora took off into the air. Within seconds, her bond was circling over the battlefield, allowing Luxa to view the battle from an aerial view. "Drop me next to Gregor," she told her bond. "You go and help your brothers and sisters."

Aurora nodded wordlessly and began to fly towards Gregor, who appeared exhausted and sluggish. Luxa leapt off Aurora and flipped through the air, landing next to Gregor gracefully. Every movement of hers was elegant, refined and sophisticated, which was juxtaposed to Gregor's calculated, mechanical movements as he hacked down the rats which still had the courage to fight him.

She glanced at him and grinned. "You need help?"

"Help your uncle," Gregor replied through gritted teeth. He quickly parried two slashes from a rat and responded with an upwards-swinging stroke of his blade, almost decapitating the rat. "I'm not sure he has the stamina to defend himself in a battle like this."

She nodded her head, and wove herself through the blood and muck around her. Despite how much she wanted to fight alongside Gregor, she knew that her own family and the lives of her people were of paramount importance. The artistry in her fighting that she wanted to demonstrate to Gregor could wait for now.

One rat tried to attack her right, but she calmly sidestepped the attack and hacked its front right limb off, before jabbing its shoulder. The rat fell back with a hiss of pain, and then it limped forward to continue the battle. Luxa feinted towards its right side, causing the rat to lose its balance and tumble over. She then quickly impaled its head with her sword, killing it instantly.

She soon found her uncle, who had one of the most distinct bodies on the battlefield. Towering and loud, he constantly hollered at the top of his lungs when in combat, and wasn't afraid to use his hands. She watched in awe as he grabbed a rat's throat with his bare hands and drove his knee into its face, breaking its snout. He then lifted it up and smashed it back down, before proceeding to pummel it to death.

He then tossed the body aside and picked his weapons up once more, readying himself for battle. A brown rat casually trotted up to him and swung its claws wildly, forcing him to parry the attacks with some skill. The rat tried to dig its claws into his legs, but with a powerful stroke he batted the rat's claws aside, and then stabbed the rat's throat with his sword.

"York!" she called out.

He turned to face her and smiled, although it was hard not to notice how he was wheezing away. "Luxa!" he greeted her. "Didn't expect to find you here!"

Luxa quickly reacted to a stray rat on the ground who tried to bite her, swinging her blade down and taking out its eyes with a slash. She then put it out of its misery by stabbing it through the head, before saying, "I'm sorry!"

"All is forgiven!" he replied, taking down another rat by thrusting his blade into its side, almost disembowelling it. "I-"

He halted abruptly and his eyes widened as they settled on something behind Luxa.

"LOOK OUT!" he yelled at her.

Luxa spun around to see Gorger standing right in front of her.

There was no time, she had to quickly think, but nothing came to her mind, everything was a mess, here he was, was he about to jump at her, where was Gregor, where did Gorger come from…

Millions of thoughts raced through her mind as the one nemesis who had torn her life and innocence apart stood mere metres away from her. She could only watch on helplessly as his legs tensed up, and the silver rat leapt straight…

Over her.

She spun back around to see him crash into York, before…

Oh no.

Gorger…

Gorger sank his teeth into York's throat.

The reality in front of her felt like a nightmare as time seemed to come to a complete standstill. She could see the little details of the scene before her eyes as the battle raged on about them. York's blood was flying through the air, while Gorger had just released his grip on York's throat. York's face bore pain, surprise and…

Regret.

Luxa swore she could have seen a tear welling up in his eye as his blood began to run. The world around her seemed to darken considerably, and she felt… cold. Like she was draped in a suit of ice, having to bear the suffering of a frosty world without warmth or love. Her mother, her father, her grandmother, her grandfather, Hamnet, and now York…

All taken away from her. Her own blood, all taken away from her before she could even grow to be the queen they had worked so hard to mould. Luxa's body felt so numb as the world laughed at her. Nobody had stopped to help her uncle, because of… what, fate? Fate was toying with her and slowly destroying her entire world?

What was going on?

And then she realised what had happened- Gorger had chosen to kill York. He could have killed Luxa there and then because she was truly helpless, but instead he had chosen to kill her uncle instead, just…

Just as she had begun to repair her relationship with him.

Gorger had inflicted the most bitter kind of pain on her- the agony of having to see the ones you cared about dying all around you. And this time, the feeling of regret didn't just belong to York.

It belonged to her, for trying to fight her uncle when all he wanted to do was to help the Underland.

Now he was gone.

 _He was gone._

Gorger suddenly moved off York's body and the present world slammed into her face jarringly. The ice which had frozen her heart was now the fire in her muscles as she unleashed a battle scream worthy of valkyries, before charging towards Gorger.

The rat's smug grin didn't falter, but he did begin to back away. He bounded off, occasionally glancing behind to see how she was faring. Driven by absolute rage, she screamed again, "COME BACK, YOU COWARD!"

Suddenly, a human figure landed in front of her to obstruct her path of vengeance. Luxa gazed at him in disbelief. "You," she snarled.

Conrad nodded and replied tersely, "My queen."

"I'm not your queen," Luxa spat. "Get out of MY WAY."

"Forgive me," he said softly, drawing out his weapon. "I know how painful this is for you, but it's necessary. Gorger's merely trying to even out the balance of power."

"Don't you dare defend that coward," Luxa hissed, tears cascading down her cheeks. "DON'T YOU DARE."

"I won't let you kill him," Conrad said adamantly. "Because if you do, you'll become the tyrant I always feared you'd be."

"Tyrant?" Luxa almost choked incredulously. "TYRANT? You brought this war on us, and you accuse ME of being a tyrant?"

"Yes," he said bluntly, and then he opened up his arms to invite her to attack.

She took two quick strides forward and jabbed at his neck fiercely, forcing him to parry her blade aside. He then responded with a quick jab of his own, but she easily turned his blade aside. "Excellent reflexes," he mused.

She thrust her sword at his torso before going for his legs, but he parried the effort easily and launched a counter-attack of his own, swinging at her shoulder. She brought her blade up to block, and conjured up a lightning-fast response by driving her blade at his shoulder.

But again, he was equal to the attack, retreating just out of range before her blade could penetrate his skin. "Please Luxa," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "You're still my wife. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she responded coldly, flipping up and landing behind him. She jabbed at him, but he spun around fast enough to knock the attack aside. She then went low and swung her legs, sweeping him off balance.

Luxa then sprang forward to finish the job and incapacitate him, but he was able to roll aside, her blade landing mere inches away from his face. He leapt to his feet and tried a triple feint, but Luxa read his movements well enough to defend against the attack, parrying the stab at her right side.

She then moved forward confidently, slashing furiously at him and spinning about to disorient him. She arched her body back when he stabbed his blade forward with blazing speed and strength, and she was forced to flip out of the way when he tried to strike her with another trademark swing of his blade.

Their blades crashed against each other again, causing sparks to fly across the area. She then caught him off guard by firing a kick straight at his stomach, causing him to double over in pain as he backed off, slashing his sword wildly to fend her off.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Luxa taunted him. "That's where Gregor stabbed you, wasn't it?"

Conrad managed a forlorn smile. "Was our relationship always this acrimonious?" he asked, clearly trying to spite her. "Because I remembered a time when we were happy in love, without the interference of… _him._ "

"We were never truly happy," Luxa replied resentfully. "You could only love me when you had all the power, because deep down, I know you _hate_ sharing power."

Conrad, having recovered from the blow, stood upright and said, "This isn't how I wanted this meeting to go. I haven't given up on us, Luxa. We can still work this out."

When Luxa stared into his eyes, she knew he was being genuine. And that was what hurt the most when it came to Conrad- it wasn't that they were in a loveless marriage. He really had done his absolute best to preserve the slightest bit of love they had for each other. But in the process of doing so, he had unwittingly driven them further apart and had alienated himself.

"You had that chance a while ago," she replied, her voice cracking slightly. "But you lost all hope when you allied yourself to Gorger."

Conrad nodded slowly, and with the pain evident in his voice, he said, "Fly you high, Luxa." He then whistled once, and Dionysus landed in front of him. He climbed on top of Dionysus, and yelled, "FALL BACK! KING GORGER CALLS FOR A RETREAT! FALL BACK!"

Dionysus then took off as the rats retreated in a frenzy, making a mad dash down the plains towards the caves where they had set up camp. "Do we pursue, your Majesty?" Perdita asked as she jogged up to Luxa's side.

"No," Luxa answered instantly, staring ambivalently at the retreating figure of Conrad.

"LUXA!" she heard Gregor call out desperately.

She pirouetted around and raced over to Gregor, who had taken his helmet off and was sitting next to the motionless…

And then the pain hit her again.

She knelt down next to Gregor, who was cradling York's head. Her uncle was now extremely pale, as blood seeped out of the wound in his throat. A quick glance at it revealed that his either his trachea or windpipe had been crushed, or maybe both. It didn't really matter, because all Luxa cared about was that her uncle was dying.

"FATHER!" a voice rang out, and a soldier rushed over to his side. Luxa recognised the soldier as Kent, but the pain and sadness in her heart was suddenly accentuated when she heard a much more familiar voice cry out in anguish.

"FATHER!" Howard wailed as he pushed through the crowd of people standing around York's body. His face was absolutely drenched in tears, and following in his wake was Hero, who looked absolutely devastated as well.

York, although close to taking his final breath, still had the strength to gently reach up and brush the face of each of his children in front of him. The plains were now as dead silent as a cemetery, just like it had been before the entrance of Gorger's and York's armies.

Luxa, whose tears were now in free flow, turned to face Gregor, who looked completely heartbroken as well. His shoulders were slumped, and while tears didn't fall down his face, they welled up in his eyes. For a man who had been through so much pain as a child, he looked so broken. Yes, she could still see the glimmer of the old, hopeful Gregor in his eyes, but they were obscured by the shattered expression on his face.

York's hand seemed to linger on Howard's face as his son sobbed uncontrollably. The pride in York's eyes was unmistakable- here, in his final moments, York was truly revealing how he felt to the people he loved most.

He then turned slightly to look at Luxa and he nodded his head, his hand resting on her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze that displayed his love for her in a manner which could not be conveyed through words.

But what caused her heart to truly ache was the pride in his eyes. After all she had wronged him, after the shit she had put him through, he still loved her and was proud of her. Unable to reign in her emotions, she began to cry out loud, her facade falling apart as her heart did.

Finally, he looked at Gregor, who was now openly letting his tears flow. "I'll keep my promise," he said to York, who looked satisfied by Gregor's comment. As his breathing became harsher and more strained, he reached out and gripped Gregor's hand. The two of them stared into each other's eyes as they shook hands and made their peace.

Luxa looked at her surroundings in despair. Yes, they had triumphed against Gorger's forces, but the price was far too high. Rats who were once Regalians lay dead, their bodies strewn across the mourning plains. Regalians and soldiers of the Fount alike were lying next to the rats, their lives claimed by irrational hatred.

York finally took in one last gulp of air and his body went slack. Screaming in sorrow, Howard buried his head in his father's chest, as Kent and Hero embraced each other, unable to bear the pain alone.

"So much destruction and death," she said aloud to no one in particular. "And for what?"

"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods," Ripred's voice chimed in. "They kill us for their sport."

Gregor let go of York's head and gently lay it on the ground, bowing his head wordlessly. All around them, soldiers dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in respect.

It was finished.

Just when the silence became ear-splitting, an urgent voice smashed it unceremoniously. "Where's Gregor?" a panicked voice called out. "Where's Gregor?"

Gregor stood up and turned around to face the person calling for him, as did Luxa.

Mr Bennett burst through the crowd, panting away.

"Mr Bennett?" Luxa and Gregor said in unison.

"Gregor," Mr Bennett said, his eyes betraying the fear that had gripped him. "Snake has them. He has them."

"Them?" Gregor asked, clearly overwhelmed by the tragedy in front of him as well as the peculiar timing of Mr Bennett's interruption.

Mr Bennett swallowed, and said,

"Your family."

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, it was one of the more action-packed ones in recent memory, I believe. And the ending of this chapter kinda signals the start of another major part of this story- Gregor rescuing his family and Calvin. There are at least 50 chapters planned out, so we're only near the halfway mark. Maybe I can churn out more chapters so that we'll hit at least chapter 30 by the end of this year.**

 **Again, I continue to implore you all for support. This story was just saved by people who cared for it, and it will continue to thrive if more support continues my way.**

 **Lastly, if I came across as being too aggressive and you found it offensive, I'm sorry. I apologise for appearing that way.**

 **There is no question for this chapter. BUT THERE'S A TWIST: you guys get to ASK me questions! Yep, since I may not be updating soon please go ahead and ask me any question in the reviews, and I'll answer them on my profile page. Alternatively, you can also PM me the question.**


	24. Chapter 24: Masks

**Hi guys! Thank you to: Im Blu, koipbuiop, Iron Carnotaur, a guest reader, Randonfire, HumanicHedgeHog, phantom 1299, NoahTheOverlander, MarbleSky, DeathDrayanD, another guest reader, TheGreatAthlon5, .blox, Indigo, Moeez, pyro15 and TH3 EL3TR1C. Your support means a lot to me now, and I hope you continue to read and review!**

 **The answers to your questions have been posted on my profile page. Please go and check it out to learn more about me and this story!**

 **This chapter is integral in developing certain themes for this story, so I'd say it's pretty important to follow even if there isn't a lot of action.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Masks**

It was the most bitter winter Calvin had lived through.

Not a physical winter where the cold chilled his skin, but a figurative one where the cold chilled his heart. He was in the middle of a snowy desert, barren and desolate, with the sun slowly fading as the menacing darkness pulled it out of his sight.

How many lies had been whispered over the blackest night, when even the purest of angels hid and the greatest of men slept? The stars lied too- they pretended to be emblems of hope, when in fact they were long dead, ending up as nothing but a symbol of false dreams which belonged in memories of childhood. They had been burnt out and spent a long time ago, as had the truth. Now the truth was tired of lying and had come out to reveal itself in the most cruel manner possible.

Despair had finally slaughtered hope, in a brutal struggle which came to influence the moral dilemmas Calvin faced. Down in Calvin's heart, he felt a void- overwhelming, hungry darkness, spreading like a disease and ravaging the last glimpses of hope and honour Calvin still possessed. The world of light he was born into was now being consumed by monsters lurking in the shadows.

Calvin couldn't trust anyone, least of all himself. The one person he had loved all his life turned out to be yet another lie, and Calvin was sick of it. He was sick of having his soul ripped to pieces over the years. Every single time he tried to repair his life, another blow by fate would leave him sprawling and winded. He didn't want to get up anymore. It wasn't worth it.

Doing good only brought back more pain.

In the rare moments his frenzied mind decided to cool down and assume rationality, his heart was only ruthlessly shredded even more by a whole series of questions which challenged the purpose of his existence-

Was Snake really his father?

Who was Richard Oberton?

Who could he call "Dad"?

When the questions failed to evoke any kind of answer, his mind would slowly start to slide down the slope, falling towards the freezing waters where his fears floated about. He could barely remember what he was frightened of- occasionally he could see tufts of fur… eyes… maybe a wing… Were those teeth? What kind of teeth were those?

And in those moments, he would grip the chair tighter, horrified by the tiniest movements in the shadows or the faintest of noises that rolled up his neck, causing his hair to shoot up instantly, before finally crawling into his ear. He would fumble about, trying to grip on to something which could keep him fastened to this reality. His nails would dig into the fabric, or might crack if it was metal or wood, while his muscles would begin to cramp up from being too tense.

It didn't amount to anything in the end. He would pull himself out of the frigid stream and the fears would subside, but his tumble back into it was inevitable. So all he could do was breathe, and prepare for the day he was staring back at claws and beady eyes.

Calvin sometimes found the strength to swallow down the rising panic and to haul himself out of the figurative well he had been stuck in and to try and fixate his eyes on something to distract him from the raging hell in the midst of the unforgiving cold.

Snake, bless God, had left him alone for quite some time. He was fed occasionally, and was allowed a couple of limps to the toilet a day, but that was the extent to which he was allowed to move. Snake, ever the obsessive control freak, had kept Calvin neutralised and in his hands. Once Calvin was done enjoying these little luxuries, it was back to being tortured. Snake had started to become quite creative, but it was becoming evident that he was running out of ideas.

Calvin didn't want to know what would happen when the ideas finally dried up.

His eyes constantly chose to settle on what appeared to be organs, robbed from the corpses of people who once had life flowing through them. His insides squealed at the sight of some of the grotesque objects, but he refused to categorise them or use any kind of logic at all. IT would only be more punishing on the senses.

But today was different- today he wasn't the only breathing creature in the room. A curled up ball of grimy, blood-caked fur stirred in the background, shifting about incessantly despite how it was shackled down for good. Eventually, the slightly annoying clink of chains died down, and then came a voice which sounded as old as time itself.

"What are you here for?"

Calvin stared up at the ceiling where darkness lay. It smiled right back at him.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"I didn't mean to come across as being intrusive," the voice replied politely, with a disappointed sigh punctuating his answer. "I just wanted to have the dignity of speaking to someone before my death."

Calvin instantly felt bad for trying to shut him down, but given his experiences over the past few days, or maybe even weeks… Calvin didn't trust anyone, and to be fair he didn't trust himself either.

But having been alone for so long, a little company wouldn't hurt, even if it was with the vilest snake on earth.

"I guess we can talk," he said to the unnamed speaker, whose figure remained shrouded by shadows, with Calvin catching the occasional glimpse of brown fur in the flickering light. Not a human, for sure. Probably one of the animals Operation Claw had caught to carry out their atrocious experiments. "But would it benefit either of us?"

"Well," the figure said, "judging by the youth in your tone, I suppose this could be an opportunity to impart some knowledge. Might be a way of redemption before I enter the afterlife, _if_ there is an afterlife."

An awkward silence ensued, before the figure added, "I'll introduce myself first, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"It won't," Calvin replied honestly. "But whatever, go ahead."

The figure cleared its throat and said, "I'm Fabius."

He then stretched his head out so that the light would fall on his face, and Calvin nearly jerked out of his seat in shock. He might very well have, if it wasn't for the straps holding him down.

Fabius was a fox.

Calvin took a couple of seconds to register that fact, before he slowly began to take in the minor details. The blood on his forehead. The missing teeth. An ear dangling precariously, threatening to drop off any second. Fur that was darkened by dirt. A prominent scar on the chin.

And piercing yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes similar to a fox which had once won his trust and then violated it, playing Calvin for a fool. A fox with yellow eyes that screamed of malice, cruelty and yes, madness too. But these yellow eyes were devoid of those traits. They were devoid of anything, for that matter. No happiness or despair or…

Hope.

"You're…" Calvin stammered, "You're… a schemer."

"Well done, detective," the fox replied sarcastically. "But not just any schemer- I am King Flavius' older cousin."

Someone related to Flavius would have been empowered by the power and status of the rager king, and yet here Fabius was- battered, bruised and in chains, waiting for death to claim him as his body rotted away.

Very peculiar.

"Why are you down here?" he asked Fabius.

"I ask myself the same question sometimes," Fabius chuckled bitterly. "Then the answer strikes me, which usually leads to a lot of cursing and regret. But over time, I've come to peace with the decision I made."

"Which is?"

Fabius' bitter expression morphed into a wry smile as he said, "I chose to oppose Flavius."

Why the hell would Fabius do that?

Given that he was in a position of privilege, where he generally had more autonomy than others and probably possessed more power than the ordinary schemer, why would he choose to throw it all away to fight his cousin, who was the despotic ruler?

As if on cue, Fabius continued, "I'm aware it sounds… counter-intuitive. But seeing what he had done, was doing and wanted to do, I knew he had to be stopped. Rulers with absolute power cannot be trusted. They may remain pure for a little while, but not forever. However good their intentions were, they often get corrupted by power and end up abusing it, at the expense of their own kind."

"I highly doubt that Flavius had good intentions," Calvin remarked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Fabius replied. "Flavius was once a noble soul who led the schemers out of misery. We were bright creatures, sure, but we didn't have the guts to act . Only he had the courage to venture out into the unknown."

"So what did he do?" Calvin asked, his curiosity piqued suddenly. Despite talking to Flavius often while he was pretending to be Murellus and fighting him on a couple of other occasions, Calvin didn't quite know his enemy well enough.

 _If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle._

Lao Tzu. The Art of War.

A book Richard Oberton had instructed him to read once he was fifteen. Calvin still opened it from time to time to have a look through, but it was still far more complex and philosophical than most other books suited for a guy his age.

"Flavius found a small passageway leading back into our ancestor's former home. Realising that it meant we could finally leave the impoverished area we lived in and the wretched conditions we had been subject to for centuries, Flavius tried to convince the former king to leave," Fabius explained.

"But the former king rejected Flavius' idea. He was scared that Flavius was leading them into an environment which could lead to the extermination of the race. Afraid of losing his power and his life, the king refused to grant him permission to lead the schemers out of the hellhole we were in and declared that he was satisfied living in the Uncharted lands."

Fabius took in a deep breath, evidently feeling a tad overwhelmed by the memories which assaulted his ravaged mind. "But Flavius wasn't going to sit by and watch the schemers suffer in the ruins we lived in. So he led a rebellion, aided by me and his best friend Brutus, to overthrow the old king."

"You?" Calvin asked incredulously.

"Yes," Fabius nodded. "Flavius was doing the right thing for our race. Was he arrogant and greedy? Perhaps. But he also possessed a great love for his fellow schemer, and that spurred him on to fight for our survival."

"We overthrew the old king without any major problems. Flavius, being the only rager, slaughtered the old king himself and announced himself as the new king of the schemers. The rest of the schemers began to see him as a Saviour, someone sent down by divine beings to lead us out of the darkness we were left to rot in and into the light."

"Did he still have noble intentions as king?" Calvin queried.

"Yes, yes he did," Fabius answered. "Not many people saw the good, but I did. I saw what he went through as a pup It was those experiences that molded his character and personality."

"What experiences?" Calvin pressed Fabius.

"His parents were killed when he was but a pup," Fabius replied, his voice sounding distant as he delved further into a long-forgotten past. "It was a time of civil turmoil, and the old king was trying to rally as many supporters as possible to his side. Flavius' parents were both ardent supporters of his regime, but did not actively participate in the fighting for fear of letting the fighting escalate to a level which would threaten the life of their only son."

"But alas, the war had reached intensity levels far beyond what was expected and the divide between the two factions was at an all-time high. Foxes who were major supporters of the old king were hunted down and killed."

Fabius sighed as he said, "Foxes like Flavius' parents."

In that moment, all hatred he possessed against Flavius subsided, and Calvin found a wave of pity swelling in his chest. They were so similar- they had both lost their parents at a young age and were left to fend for themselves in a merciless, brutal world. And yet despite the similarities at the start, their paths had diverged so starkly that the similarities were almost practically unrecognisable anymore.

Calvin, during his interactions with Flavius, had barely seen even a modicum of genuine emotion. The fox had either walled it all up or forgotten how to feel over the years. To be devoid of compassion and fear and pain… It took a real tragedy to destroy all those feelings in someone.

"Right after losing his parents, he discovered he was a rager," Fabius continued. "I was there every night, right next to him when he lamented how he discovered his abilities so late. He used to regret how he was unable to protect his parents, and he also used to curse the old king for allowing such a brutal conflict to tear our kingdom apart. Those nights would shape the type of king he would ultimately become."

"And what kind of king would that be?" Calvin asked.

Another sigh rose in the background, and in a voice that finally betrayed how broken Fabius was on the inside, he said, "The kind of king who lusts for power."

The light that fell on his face revealed the anguish that Fabius was going through, so the fox concealed it, shifting his head into the shadows and using the darkness as a mask. Calvin understood why- sometimes, pain was something intimate, something which was personal and not to be shared with others. Your own vulnerabilities were to be dealt with in your own darkness, not under the light of day for others to see.

"You see," Fabius went on, "Flavius believed that only a leader with ultimate power could truly protect his people. To be honest, he was and still is right. A benevolent dictator is ideal for any species because only he can truly maintain the safety of the people and protect them like sons and daughters."

"But?" Calvin anticipated the clause.

"But he forgot the oldest rule in the history of politics," Fabius replied. "And it is this- power corrupts even the best of us. Flavius didn't want to feel powerless anymore, because that was the primary feeling he experienced when he lost his parents. It was a lack of control from the old king that led to the civil war, and Flavius claimed that lack of control stemmed from a lack or misuse of power."

"So he claimed total power for himself," Calvin realised. "He took advantage of the people worshipping him for leading them out of that shithole and made them see him as the one true king."

"Spot on," Fabius said wistfully. "Those were the days when deep down in his soul, he was still good. The intention behind claiming absolute power was to establish control and to achieve complete peace."

"Flavius told me peace in the Underland was impossible," Calvin recalled, his eyebrows furrowing as his mind traced its way back to when he was still an amateur, in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers.

"Peace in the Underland _is_ impossible," Fabius agreed, "as long as various different species continue to co-exist. Flavius' war on Regalia is fueled, once again, by his need to ensure that he has absolute power. He's not very different from some Regalians, in a sense. He desires peace as well, except that he believes the only way to attain it is to destroy any obstacle against him so that dissent and opposition were minimal. When there is less dissent, there is less conflict. When there is less conflict, there is peace. It's a reasonable line of logic, I suppose. It makes sense."

"I didn't know that he was once like that," Calvin commented, his perception of the diabolical tyrant changing radically. "I always thought, you know, he was just pure evil and stuff. I didn't… I didn't actually know…"

"I don't truly believe anyone really is born evil," Fabius interjected smoothly. "Flavius was born just like you, and despite all the pain he went through, he still ascended to power with the purpose of saving his own kind. Not many would have been willing to make the sacrifices he made. Of course, the feeling of absolute power gnawed away at his soul until there's almost no good left in it, but… But I still believe he can redeem himself. I still hold out hope he can."

Hope.

Calvin scarcely believed in that ideal anymore. But seeing a fox on his deathbed, hated by his own cousin, tortured by humans and ignored by others, yet still holding out hope… It was inspiring. It was inspiring to see someone who had lost so much and gained so little still holding out with the belief of a better future.

"Flavius pretended to be my friend," Calvin told Fabius. "But he betrayed me right at the very end, and he made me mourn for him when I thought he died. So I don't think there's much good left in him anymore."

"There's good left in everyone," Fabius said stubbornly. "You think all foxes are evil? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but we aren't. Yes, perhaps some of us are consumed by the desire for power and glory and fame, or maybe some are like Flavius now and just want to destroy Regalia. But the rest of us? We're just like you all."

Those words struck a chord in Calvin's heart.

 _We're just like you all._

It was frightening- frightening to know that someone you just killed was someone just like you, but on the opposite side of the battlefield. Just the flipped side of the same coin. Just someone who was following orders or who didn't know a different way of life.

And that was the crux of Calvin's principle behind the refusal to kill- he had no right to decide who lived and who died. Maybe someone else could bear the burden, but Calvin had decided long ago that he wasn't willing to bear that burden. He may be a soldier, but he wasn't an executioner.

And what Fabius said had only reinforced that ideal.

"Fine," Calvin replied slowly, "maybe there is good left in everyone. But who can I trust now? Everybody I ever cared about seems to have betrayed me in one way or another, so how am I supposed to- "

"I know it's hard," Fabius interjected politely, his voice laced with sympathy, "when everyone around you seems to wear a mask. I know that feeling because I was surrounded by friends who all wore their facades religiously, while I remained true to myself and my feelings. A stupid move, I fear."

"Why?" Calvin asked him. "I mean, I understand that it's not smart to reveal your true self all the time, but what happened? What made you… you know… end up here?"

"My dear boy, I'm being punished for being the intrepid explorer who tested Flavius' boundaries," he chuckled bitterly. "I openly told Flavius that he had taken the wrong approach and that exterminating the other races wouldn't bring him peace."

"And he banished you because of that?"

"No," Fabius replied, shaking his head. "His response was to warn me to keep quiet. But I was naive, you see. I believed that we were better than that- better than resorting to killing others in order to make ourselves feel safer. So me being me, I went to gather some still sympathetic to my cause and we tried to stir up some shit."

Another trademark sigh from Fabius served as a filler for him to organise his thoughts as he went on, "It was me, Varius and Julius leading about a dozen other schemers in a conspiracy to dethrone Flavius. But one of Flavius' most loyal generals, Gaius, sniffed it out before we could even put our plan in place. He convinced one of our members, Severus, to betray us, and that was pretty much the end of what we tried to start."

"Did you lose all of them?" Calvin asked softly, afraid that even a few decibels more would shatter the fragile silence.

"Yes," Fabius said, his feeble voice wavering ever so slightly. "Flavius had all my friends hunted down and killed. But he saved a worse punishment for me- he sent me here to be tortured and experimented on for the sake of the Overlanders."

"I figured," Calvin replied, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm out of his intonation.

"I don't hate Flavius," Fabius said, sounding broken beyond repair. "I pity him, and I still love him as a cousin. I just wished he pursued a brighter future for the Underland. But I do hate Gaius, because he undermined everything I had come to believe in. Trust, honour… his actions taught me that I couldn't trust anyone. He taught me that even when surrounded by friends, you could be all alone."

"So that's it, huh," Calvin said bleakly. "That's what this world is like. Nobody trusts anyone and we're all just truly alone."

"I suppose so," Fabius replied. "I do suppose so."

"Then what's the point of doing good anymore?" Calvin lamented. "If we can't even trust each other, if we're living in constant fear, if… if we can't even believe in an ideal, then what point is there to fighting for justice?"

"I ask myself the same question," Fabius said, his voice almost lowering to a harsh whisper. "But I can never find one good answer. There's just so much evil in the world that… that… no matter how many good people there are, their work is never enough. Everybody's just far too selfish for good people to expect any kind of success. It's basically futile."

He was shell-shocked by Fabius' words. Given how much hope he had tried to preserve over the last half a decade or so, Calvin thought that he would find the answer to the purpose of his life, or at least someone would supply that answer to him. Guess it was all just an illusion, after all.

"Then I've been living a lie," Calvin said miserably. "I've placed justice at the centre of my life but… if it's all worthless, then there's no purpose in what I do. Then there's no value gained in fighting the darkness."

That realisation felt like thunder, echoing on after roaring above the world. Calvin's heart now froze over, finally succumbing to the icy winter his soul had fought to survive in. Years of hard work, pain, sweat, blood, tears… Just to arrive at this moment, and find out that it had been wasted, all down the garbage chute once he comprehended how the purpose of his life was shaped by an imaginary order, which told him what the desires of a good life were.

Calvin cried, but these weren't tears of pain or sorrow.

They were tears of frustration.

Frustration that he had sacrificed so much to reach a premature finishing line. He had known this answer all along, but had refused to admit it out of some childish dream of making the world a better place. The truth was that even if he did, it would be for nothing. The world would end up falling backwards, tearing itself apart out of some absurd masochistic nature ingrained in its system.

And just when Calvin thought he had seen the last glimpse of fading stars, Fabius changed his world again, saying,

"But that doesn't mean you stop fighting."

Calvin turned to face the fox, who now stared right into his eyes. The yellow was neutral, merely sending him memories of another fox who possessed such a colour, but beyond the golden light that shone forward was a clear message- a message of hope.

Hope that was absent when he first stared into Fabius' eyes.

"The world needs more people like you," Fabius told him. "If we choose to give up and lose hope, if good men like you choose to leave this world to rot… Then it will for sure. Perhaps it will die anyway, even if you sacrifice everything for it. But out there, a little kid is watching his world crumble apart. When he sees a hero or a symbol of hope standing up against the masses of evil that gather at his doorstep… That boy will feel inspired to do the same."

"So…" Calvin said, feeling a little strength surging through his blood suddenly.

"Be that symbol of hope," Fabius said. "Keep fighting against the darkness at all costs. Because there is still good left in this world. And even if it's a fraction of what it should be, it's still worth fighting for."

 _It's still worth fighting for._

Short and yet profound.

And words which would change Calvin forever.

"Even when you find yourself staring at the abyss," Fabius went on, "Remember one thing- don't blink."

Calvin stared at the light above him. He could cling onto it for a while, even when he was trapped down here, surrounded by darkness. He would cling onto that last string of hope until he was out, and once he was out… He knew what he was going to do.

He was going to fight for justice, no matter the cost.

Because at the end of the day, that's what mattered.

Because at the end of the day, that's what defined his purpose in life. Even if there was only one little boy out there who still believed in good, he had to be protected. Even if the whole world for a young ten year old fell apart when his dad died, he still needed to believe that somewhere out there, he was still being protected.

Somewhere out there, someone was still fighting for all he believed in.

"I never told you my name," Calvin told Fabius abruptly, realising that he still hadn't introduced himself to the fox whose words had begun to take effect.

"I don't need to know," Fabius replied calmly. "It's never been important to me. But I thought it was pretty obvious, _Calvin_."

So Fabius had known all along. Calvin wasn't too surprised, but he did respect the fox for withholding from conversing about Calvin's particular identity and history.

"Look, there's one last thing," Calvin said uncomfortably. "Snake said that… said that… said that he was my… um… my…"

"Your father," Fabius snorted nonchalantly. "I just saved you the struggle."

"Yea," Calvin said awkwardly, trying to diffuse the nervousness of the talk away by fiddling with his straps. "I… I don't know what to do, I mean… I've always thought Richard was my father, and I've always used Richard as an example for me. But-"

"But what? You think it's wrong because he isn't your father?" Fabius scoffed. "Calvin, can you even hear what you're saying? You're putting Richard down and spitting on his legacy because he isn't your father!"

"I know," Calvin said, shifting about uneasily. "But Snake-"

"Does it matter?" Fabius interrupted him, this time in a less polite manner. "Your true father is the one who cared for you when you were a kid and gave you everything you ever wanted for and more. It doesn't matter who your biological father is. It really doesn't. All that matters is that Richard sacrificed everything to turn you into the man you are today, so as far as I see it, he is your father."

And everything clicked into place. Every doubt, every stab of pain suddenly vanished as everything fell into place. Richard Oberton was his father, not Snake.

Because Richard was the one who really loved him.

Maybe Richard was his biological father, maybe he wasn't. Who cared anyway? Richard Oberton had been there at his lowest point and had lifted him through the toughest obstacles, even when he was long gone.

Richard had given him hope, while Snake had taken it away.

No, Snake had _tried_ to take it away.

After all was said and done, Calvin still believed that Richard was his father, and Fabius was right- nothing else mattered.

"And pardon yet another one of my two cents' worth again," Fabius added, "but Snake doesn't deserve to be a father to anyone if he tries to tear down his own son's life and then go on to torture him. Only a sick bastard would do that, least of all a father."

Yet another fair point by Fabius. Calvin had initially started off by being suspicious of his motives, but gradually had come to respect him and…

Trust. _Him_.

Calvin would never have imagined in a million years that he would end up trusting a fox, but here he was, speaking to a cerebral being with the intellect and power to use Calvin's disclosed knowledge against him, but…

But he didn't.

Fabius was probably the first fox Calvin had ever fully trusted. And that moment of anagnorisis in the story of his life revealed itself to him- every being still had hope. He couldn't just choose to kill, because deep down there was an innate goodness left in everyone, which meant that if he killed anyone, that goodness died along with them.

He had to hope that they could one day tap into that goodness.

As much as he hated Snake, he had to be the better person. He couldn't and wouldn't pull the trigger on him, or any fox he faced in battle, because that still made him a murderer, no matter how justified he was.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the opening of a door. Snake emerged from the darkness, striding towards Fabius. "Did you two have a good chat?" he asked casually, pulling out a pistol.

Out of the corner of his eye, Calvin spotted Fabius lifting his head slightly, as if he was being elevated spiritually in his last few moments in this world. "The boy understands now," Fabius snarled. "He understands that you were never, and never will be, his father."

"That's not what I put you in here for," Snake said coldly, reloading the pistol slowly as the tension in the room went up a notch. "The deal was to convince him otherwise, and I'd let you go."

"Deal's off, I guess," Fabius replied cheerfully.

"Indeed," Snake said, training the pistol on Fabius.

"Remember what I told you, Calvin," Fabius said, his voice not shaking or trembling as he stared death straight in the face. "Keep believing in-"

Snake fired three times.

"NO!" Calvin screamed at the top of his lungs.

But when the echoes of his scream faded into the background, only silence replied.

* * *

 **I know this chapter wasn't necessarily action-packed, but there are a lot of thematic ideas and messages for you to unpack here. This chapter is pivotal in Calvin's development as our secondary protagonist, and while the conversation helped to change him, I also hope it changes your perspective on the world. Or maybe not change your perspective…. But I hope it's thought-provoking at the very least.**

 **Also, remember to check out my profile page!**

 **Favourites/follows are encouraged, please review!**

 **Question: Do you think there is good in this world fighting for? Or do you think a more nihilistic stance should be adopted? Please share your thoughts in the reviews section?**


	25. Chapter 25: Going Home

**HELLO EVERYBODY! I'm really sorry for the long delay but… actually I'll get to that later. I want to sincerely thank the following people who have been absolutely wonderful, reviewing over the last month. Here goes my thanks to: Gyltig, Randonfire, koipbuiop, phantom1299, Iron Carnotaur, Im Blu, TheGreatAthlon5, DeathDrayanD, Malorn FairyTail, MarbleSky, a guest reader, Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander, BlackWolfUnder, THExPOTxHEAD, TH3 EL3TR1C, another guest reader, Moeez, somerandom, HumanicHedgeHog, another two guest readers, NoahTheOverlander, The Writer of all Mistakes, another guest reader and Bigboyyeah55.**

 **So I've been overseas with the family and I've been sick for a while, which is part of the reason why this chapter has taken so long to be churned out. But another reason is that I don't love writing the way I used to… I've found other more fulfilling things to do in life and that means I want to spend more time enjoying that side of my life too. I'll still be writing because I still intend to finish this story, but I implore all my readers to be patient and to continue to review this story. There's still so much more to come which I want to share with you all!**

 **This chapter is a little boring, but it's necessary and it sets up the chaos for the next chapter. Ready?**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Going Home**

Gregor fidgeted about in the backseat, literally twiddling his thumbs as the car sped down the highway. His eyes grew mistier and mistier as familiar sights along the roadside emerged, pulling him back to a time when hate hadn't controlled him the way it did when he left home. Sure, he had been through harrowing bouts of depression and soul-crushing misery, but there was no hatred embedded in his soul.

He never considered the white farmhouse his home. New York was always going to be the place where the picture of his life was the most vivid and which evoked bittersweet nostalgia.

But that world was gone, and the only physical home in the Overland he was now left with was the one in Virginia. Despite how much pain he had endured living there, he had also experienced a lot of joy. Futile joy, as things eventually panned out, but joy nonetheless.

A little scene stood out above all the rest- it was ages ago, but Gregor could still recall the sight like it happened the day before. He was sitting at the dining table with Lizzie and Boots… It was a morning, the warm, buoyant rays of light filtering through and lying on the tiled floor like sweet honey.

Pancakes, pancakes for breakfast. The first flavour to unfold on his tongue was sugary maple syrup, quickly followed by the delicate, buttery flavor of the pancake itself. Pure bliss. His mother knew how to fry a slice of heaven.

Sunday. Mass had ended. Prayers had been whispered in the hope of better things to come. Having ridden on a wave of religious fervour, Gregor arrived back home feeling tranquil and at peace with his own emotions and regrets. A rare occasion, an occasion to be celebrated with pancakes. Unorthodox way of coping, but Gregor had gone through hell back in New York. He deserved pancakes.

It had been years but he still tasted the sorrow and anguish of having lost people he had grown to care about and love. It was beyond bitter, it tasted… No words to describe it, unfortunately. The taste palette could only detect that much bitterness. But his heart would throb for years and ache every moment he was awake. Sleep was the reprieve he sought at the end of every day. He was constantly emotionally exhausted.

Then came this Sunday morning. His sisters challenged him to a game of naming as many animals as possible, to which he reluctantly agreed. Fun was not to be gorged on- it was to be sampled, delicately tasted every once in a blue moon. Indulging in it would only lead to regret when it suddenly vanished along with hope.

But that morning, as he took a mouthful of pancakes, he took a mouthful of fun as well. His sisters giggled as Lizzie spewed out the names of animals, rattling off each name like a bullet flying out of the nozzle of a machine gun. It was a comprehensive and ruthless victory of her, and it left both Boots and Gregor winded in a bout of laughter.

Gregor glanced up at his parents, who were laughing softly as well. Gregor's father had his arm wrapped around his mother. At that moment, nothing else mattered. Gregor reveled in the unadulterated happiness that consumed the room, radiating sheer delight and ecstasy because for once, for once…

They were all happy.

It was the only time throughout his stay in Virginia when he actually smiled genuinely. Other times it was a well-constructed facade, having practised in front of the mirror enough times to just about cover up the torment of demons from his past. But here, under the smiling sun, Gregor was finally happy.

Then, the journey of his past slowly pivoted towards a darker, more haunted region of his memory.

As if on cue, the sun timidly bowed out of vision as grey clouds rolled in to dull the day. Tears welled up in Gregor's eyes while rain welled up in the clouds as well. Raw pain seized his heart as he suddenly felt so vulnerable, feeling the emotional scars of inflicted not just by his mother's words, but by his own as well.

A slew of profanities tore her down bit by bit, hammering her to breaking point, and in response she had launched hell-inspired fury at him, cursing his journey to New York. In a painful twist of fate, her curse ended up working out- Gregor ended up losing his own way in life when in New York, and he needed Calvin to pull him out of the doldrums.

As tears began to rain down from heaven, Gregor fought to keep his tears stored inside. Crying was a weakness, not something to be put on display. Sobbing on the inside was acceptable, but letting other people see how torn apart you were was always a decision going to come back and hit you where you least expected it to.

He loved his mother. Even after all the words she had used to batter his emotional state to a pulp, he still loved her with all his heart. But they could never really show their love for each other because they had such a radical difference in opinions and beliefs. If other people were embroiled in a genocide, she would stay far away from it as if they were the plague. All that mattered to her was that her family was safe.

But Gregor hated the idea of inaction, especially when others were suffering. As long as he possessed the power to save someone else's life, he had to do it. Because negligence was, to him, almost as bad as committing the crime itself. People in power had the responsibility to use it for the disenfranchised, to protect those who needed love and hope in moments of despair. Gregor had been through that despair… He knew how it felt. And that was why he could never just remain on the sidelines, unlike his mother.

Of course there was that major episode when he refused to fight at all, but barring that existential crisis he faced, he always sought to stretch out a hand to those in need. It was just part of his nature to seek out something greater than himself and to serve it when it began to ail and fall apart.

He had grown attached to the people as well, while his mother continued to view them as foreigners, people who were… different. People whom she couldn't trust with her son's life, despite all they had done to protect him. Had they used him? Yes, but so had his mother. Everybody was just someone else's pawn or tool in the whole scheme of life, after all.

"Are you alright, sir?" Mr Bennett asked, momentarily taking a glance at Gregor through the rearview mirror of the Porsche.

"I'm fine," Gregor grunted as the pouring rain intensified its pace, crashing down with rhythmic tension. "Did… Did Calvin tell you anything else?"

"No, sir," Mr Bennett replied, and Gregor felt for the old man when he heard the fear and anxiety entwined in his voice. "Master Calvin hasn't spoken to me since he left New York. I fear… I fear…"

He trailed off, and Gregor didn't need his rager vision to see Mr Bennett's muscles tensing up as he gripped the wheel even tighter.

"Don't fear," Gregor said, imbuing confidence and strength into his voice even though he was devoid of both. "Calvin is resourceful and smart. I doubt he'll be in any shit."

"Mr Carter should be with him," Mr Bennett added, determined optimism in his tone. "They might be able to make it together."

"Wait, he is?" Gregor said incredulously. "Calvin told me the old man was in jail."

"He was," Mr Bennett confirmed. "I went to the prison facility to tell him about Calvin, so he broke out of jail a couple of hours later to go and help the boy out. I wanted to do it the legal way, but he insisted that the paperwork would take too long. I haven't had the time to check the news yet, because I rushed down as soon as I could to find you, but I do suppose the police have launched a manhunt for him."

Mr Carter was not someone to be underestimated- Calvin had made that abundantly clear when describing him. Ruthless and deadly, he was proficient with swords, daggers, rifles, pistols, hand-to-hand combat… Name an item, and he'd probably used it as a weapon before. Gregor never got the opportunity to know him personally, but by now he was pretty convinced that Mr Carter could match up against a rager on a good day.

Gregor gazed down at his hastily assembled armour and wondered if it would be enough. Following Mr Bennett's frantic declaration that Gregor's family was back in trouble, he immediately rushed back to Regalia to gather his stuff and prepare himself to follow Mr Bennett up. The caretaker had made his way back to the mansion first to get the car ready.

When panic in its unadulterated intensity struck you, your mind ended up in complete pandemonium. Gregor found himself smashing stuff in his room back in Regalia as he tried to sort out his thoughts and actions. Incoherent images stormed forward, panic seizing him as the world seemed to fall apart, piece by piece. He had lost so many people before, people he loved with all his heart and people he would give up his own life for.

But not his family.

Luxa tried to calm him down, but the friction in their relationship was still getting in the way. He dismissed her as politely as he could, on the verge of a monumental eruption of Vesuvian anger any second.

 _They had his family._

As fearful as he was for their lives, the most powerful emotion in the world consumed him, drawing him back to a dark place he never wanted to return to. All that hope he had built up over the last few days had come under strain once more, having witnessed the death of a man he had come to respect and love.

And then there was the issue of the gnawers, being discriminated against and brutally hunted down, driving them to insanity and giving them the reason to join the cult. The Regalian people, fed up and disillusioned of a united Underland, had chosen to spit in the face of hard-earned peace. Few days in Gregor's life had been consumed by so much bitter division and vitriolic attacks.

And now, they had his family.

Deus vult?

Sometimes, Gregor wondered whether there really was a man up in the sky, delivering punishment, ensuring justice and delivering judgement. Because if there really was a God, then why was he introducing so much pain and despair into Gregor's life?

What had he done to deserve this?

God must have heard him in his silence, as the skies cried and sobbed even more, raindrops crashing down on this hallowed earth furiously. Thunder inhaled and roared even more menacingly, while lightning split the graphite skies with blinding ferocity.

Eventually, his thoughts settled down as he resumed his journey down the memory lane of the last few hours. Having slashed his room to pieces with his blade and turned Luxa away, he made his way over to the armoury to get his black armour.

Miravet had repaired some of the damage Ripred had inflicted, and had even been able to supply him with a backup mask to replace the one which had been badly dented and scratched by the old rat. The cloak was gone, but that was of little consequence to Gregor. He wasn't going to need the cloak to give the mercenaries a horror show.

And despite all the promises he had made to become a better person when fighting in battle, he wasn't going to let up on the mercenaries. He had even tried to avoid killing some of the extremist rats when possible, but this was different. They had taken it to a personal level by going for his family.

He was going to break them for doing that.

His finger decided to have a will of its own, and it began to trace the edges of his armour, almost like it lusted for the aura which was radiated from the very darkness it emitted. Gregor's gaze settled on his mask, which had its own seat next to him, quietly begging for him to put it on.

It was a fierce temptation he had learned to live with- the temptation of succumbing to his primal, bestial tendencies and to ravage enemies ruthlessly, slaughtering all his adversaries without the slightest flinch or hint of conscience. Despite all the kindness and generosity he valued in the world, there was always a darker side, egging him on to lose control and to accept the monstrosity he was born to be.

The armour represented that monstrosity… It was the face of demonic horror that Gregor deliberately portrayed to frighten his enemies. There was an indescribable desire to become the armour itself, and in his most confused moments Gregor became lost in a blur between two different personas.

Even now, when he thought he had locked away that bitter, violent side of him for life, still he longed for…

More.

Troubled by his thoughts as they became increasingly disjointed and jarring, he closed his eyes, leaning back and tumbling into a completely different reality…

* * *

 _Gregor opened his eyes and found himself bathing in sunlight. A mild breeze drifted by, causing his hair to flutter up with the seeming excitement of a recently metamorphosed butterfly, before gently resting back in its original place. He could see green grass stretching on for miles, a picturesque view of nature's great feat._

 _This was a masterpiece, a Van Gogh, maybe a Salvador Dali… Those were the only artists he knew, to be completely honest. Those were the two painters Lizzie kept mentioning on those sunny Virginia days, when illustrations seemed to crawl out of the frame and into real life. It was a priceless painting of nature's spectacle, the artist being God in one of his blissful moods._

 _But like all paintings, it was set in an imaginary world. A world Gregor could never be a part of, because he had been made a skeptic by the postmodern era. A world where social constructs were irrelevant and skepticism was all but absent._

 _But for now, he could revel in it. Just for a couple of hours, he could be happy._

 _A dark shadow loomed forward, sheltering him from the inviting rays of the sun. A large body plopped itself down right next to him and joined him in staring blankly at the emerald plains._

" _May I join you?" the Bane asked with uncharacteristic politeness, seemingly exercising admirable restraint from his biting sarcasm._

" _I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Gregor sighed._

" _Rude," the gargantuan white rat responded indignantly. "I thought you'd be a little more friendly, especially since this is the last time I'll talk to you."_

" _It is?" Gregor asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I had no control over when you make appearances in my dreams"_

" _You're a lucid dreamer, you idiot," the Bane replied. "Of course you have control. All it takes is a little belief, and believe me you'll have that in spades once I'm done with our little chat."_

" _So," Gregor said, "you have advice for me?"_

" _I do," the Bane answered while picking his teeth with his right claw. "It's quite intuitive, but I wanted to remind you about it before you banish me from your consciousness."_

" _Which is?" Gregor asked._

 _The Bane turned his head to look at Gregor, revealing his hideous teeth with an unsettling grin. "The fight is always worth it."_

" _Huh?" Gregor blurted out. "And you mean… what exactly?"_

" _This is the reason I keep appearing in your dreams, you moron," the Bane rolled his eyes. "If you had even the semblance of a proper brain, you wouldn't need me to process your thoughts."_

 _The Bane did have a point, even though Gregor would never admit it out loud._

" _I mean," the Bane went on, "that no matter what kind of shit you face, you should never stop believing in good. There might come a time when the whole world and every system seems to be designed against you, but that should never be a reason why you stop fighting the good fight. You clear?"_

" _Yea," Gregor mumbled. "I guess so, but… But why say this now?"_

" _Because," the Bane replied, less irritatedly this time, "I have a feeling that times of despair are just around the corner. You lost York a couple of hours ago, and now he's been cast to the back of your mind because your family's in trouble. Not many people can endure this without questioning the world around them."_

" _Yea," Gregor said melancholically, "I can't… I can't do this. It's a never-ending battle we're never going to win."_

" _Exactly," the Bane said sympathetically. "By right you shouldn't even be fighting for the Underland or Regalia… But you are. You know what- it's like in the stories you read as a kid. The heroes always had a shit time, and it always seemed like the gods above seemed to favour the evil that these heroes fought. And in those moments, those heroes could have given up if they wanted to."_

" _And why didn't they?" Gregor asked out loud, feeling like the bright green around him had darkened slightly._

" _That's a great question," the Bane continued, "why didn't they? Why did they keep on fighting when the all the odds seemed stacked against them? How could they fight when human greed and lust seemed to trump every ounce of morality they held dear? Let me tell you why, Warrior. They did it because if they didn't, then all hope would be lost."_

" _Why is hope worth fighting for?" Gregor responded._

" _Because," the Bane answered, "hope is what we live for. You live in the hope that tomorrow will be a better day, or the hope that you'll see someone you love, or the hope that you'll succeed. Without hope, there is no goodness or love in the world. That's why your heroes kept fighting on, Warrior, no matter how much they suffered. And I think you should do the same."_

 _Gregor's heart swelled with emotion, and a single tear quietly rolled down his cheek. It wasn't a tear of grief or pain or misery… It was a tear because he felt so, so touched by what the Bane had said. For the first time in months, he felt like he had an identity again. He finally felt like he had a purpose in the world and the greater scheme of things._

" _Thank you," he said to his archnemesis. "I wish this wouldn't be the last time, but if it is, I just wanna say… I just wanna thank you for everything. You've taught me so much."_

 _The Bane replied with another toothy grin, "It wasn't me, you know. It was all you. You just needed to find yourself after all these years."_

 _The Bane suddenly stiffened and barked, "Sir!"_

" _What?"_

* * *

"Sir!" Mr Bennett called out. Gregor's eyes struggled to focus as he opened his heavy eyelids, but his ears were sharp enough to pick up on a voice on the radio saying,

"-name is Michael Harris, a prisoner from the Clinton Correctional Facility who escaped just two days ago and was seen travelling with a young man. Mr Harris also goes by the name Melvin Carter, and was given a life sentence three years ago for multiple charges of first-degree murder, having been guilty of "murder for hire" over the last two decades Mr Harris pleaded guilty during the trial."

"My God," Gregor breathed, but it was still far from over.

"The body was found with two knife wounds, one in the abdomen and one in the heart. The victim also suffered from multiple broken ribs and we just heard a couple of minutes ago that he was probably paralysed when he was killed. Police are saying that the kill was committed by a professional, someone who clearly had a background in military training."

Gregor bowed his head and said nothing. He didn't want to see the emotions on Mr Bennett's face.

"We're now hearing that this could be related to a gunfight heard in Virginia earlier today, when police were seen engaging in a gunfight with assailants near a white farmhouse. Eye witnesses are few, as members of the public were made to leave the area. There is some footage of the incident circulating online right now, but as of this moment there has been no definitive outcome or report of the fight, and the Virginia Police Department has still not released a statement regarding the fight, which is highly unusual considering the scale of this event."

Gregor looked up immediately in alarm. Was his family… already… dead?

"There have been no casualties from that incident, at least up till now, unless we're counting Mr Harris, whose connection to the fight is still dubious as of this moment. His body was found four miles away from the scene of the incident, preventing us from making a confirmation any time soon."

Gregor felt slightly more relieved, but his short, quick breaths did not let up. Every second that crawled by meant that his family was an inch closer to death. But how about…

How about Calvin?

"I let them down," Mr Bennett said to Gregor, shaking his head. It was hard to ignore the falling tears that came out intermittently. "I should have found you faster, I should have…"

"No, you did what you could," Gregor said firmly, trying to reassure both Mr Bennett and, if he was being frank, himself. "Calvin needs you to stay strong and focus now."

"I don't even know if Master Calvin is still alive," Mr Bennett choked out.

The old caretaker's statement took Gregor aback. What if Calvin was already dead?

No, he couldn't believe that. Calvin needed him to stay strong and keep on fighting, and so did his family. It was going to take Calvin's cold corpse to convince him that his old friend was truly dead.

"You heard the report," Gregor grunted back to Mr Bennett. "No other casualties apart from Mr Carter. Calvin's found a way to survive, I know it."

"You know it?" Mr Bennett asked.

"I believe it," Gregor replied, "and so should you. If there's a kid on this earth who can survive a gunfight, it's him."

"He's not immortal," Mr Bennett said hesitantly.

"He doesn't have to be," Gregor replied calmly. "He just has to be smart, and we both know he's smart enough."

Mr Bennett's response was cut short by an unexpected road barrier manned by a few policemen. Their stern frowns matched the moody skies well, reflecting deep-seated concern for the situation at hand. Gregor had no doubt what this roadblock was all about.

"We're gonna have to find another way through," Gregor remarked. "And we can't be spotted, cos' I'm still wearing my armour."

"Hmm," Mr Bennett muttered something unintelligible to himself, "perhaps… perhaps…"

"Mr Bennett," Gregor called out as they neared the roadblock, "you can't let them see me in this armour, or they'll frickin detain me!"

"Understood," Mr Bennett mumbled softly. The man seemed reluctant to change direction, but he eventually steered the vehicle around and turned back.

"How else can we get back?" Gregor asked, undeniably frustrated by the sudden hindrance.

"There's an airfield nearby," Mr Bennett murmured, "maybe that can be of use? I don't know if I can fly one of those, though… Ah, I think I know what to do."

Mr Bennett suddenly swerved the car to the right violently, sending them off the main road. Gregor's stomach lurched as they began to roll downhill, jerking fiercely as the tyres fought their way through the jagged rocks. Mr Bennett, wearing a face of sheer concentration, just gritted his teeth as he steadied the car down the hill.

The car suddenly accelerated forward, invoking a scream from Gregor. "MR BENNETT!" he yelled. "WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Hold on," Mr Bennett said, wiping the river of sweat which had accumulated above his brow. "I've got a plan."

The car roared down the hill, the uneven surface punishing the suspension and tyres. Gregor just closed his eyes and prayed for the best… Anything could happen.

But with an almighty groan and a shrill shriek, the car came to a halt beside a narrow river. Gregor opened his eyes and let loose a huge sigh of relief. This was hardly therapeutic in combatting his fear of heights, but at least he had survived yet another experience of falling, even if it was in a car.

"We're… close," Mr Bennett panted, "We'll be there soon. It's just along this river."

"How… do you know this?" Gregor asked.

"GPS, and the fact that Mr Carter's body was found in the river," Mr Bennett said solemnly. "This river is almost sure to lead us to the farmhouse."

"Good thinking," Gregor said, in both surprise and approval. "But we better move fast, before people start walking down this path. I'm sure a couple of people saw you turn off the main road."

"Good point," Mr Bennett agreed as he revved up the engine. "We have to hurry."

The car crawled down the river bank, moaning away from the damaging experience. But Mr Bennett drove forward with angry determination, clearly not in a mood to take no from the car.

Meanwhile, Gregor's eyes began to wander around, taking in the familiar faded green of the trees around him. The small forest beside him seemed to age since the last time he saw it when driving out of Virginia… It was like it had become as jaded and cynical as he was, no longer proud of the beauty it possessed but ashamed of the secrets that lived in it.

Gregor thought he saw the shadow of a fox resting in the bushes, but another quick glance yielded inconclusive results. The fox would have been small, though, unlike the monstrosities that roamed the Underland.

A fog seemed to hang about the air, adding a shroud of mystery to a place embroiled in mystery. Gripped with fear for his family and emotional on his return to a place he had spent six long years in, he quietly sang, "Take me home… Country roads."

That one line was enough to cause Mr Bennett to glance back at him, but he didn't say anything else. Honestly, singing was the only thing which could lift Gregor's hopes now, when the fate of his world hung in the balance. The emotions felt so raw, so real, that Gregor found tears welling up in his eyes.

But his emotionally powerful return home was suddenly interrupted when Mr Bennett stopped the car. "We're here," he said simply.

Gregor peered out of the window and found himself staring at a familiar white farmhouse, but this time it wasn't from the main road. They were concealed by a number of trees, but any one of Snake's sharpest mercenaries could spot them from a mile away. Gregor was going to have to act, and it was going to have to be fast.

"Stay in the car," he told Mr Bennett. "You've helped me as best you can. If I don't make it out of here alive… Tell Luxa and tell Ripred… Tell them…"

"Tell them you're sorry?" Mr Bennett guessed.

"Yea," Gregor said grimly. "And to Calvin as well, please."

"I will," Mr Bennett said. "Good luck, Gregor. Stay safe."

"Fly you high," Gregor replied bluntly.

He clambered out of the car and strode towards the white farmhouse slowly. He slowly felt the rager sensation flood his body, but this time, instead of exercising mental restraint he had become accustomed to, he let it flow throughout his veins, seizing his muscles and controlling almost everything.

They had messed with his family, and that was unforgivable.

No mercy this time.

Fate had toyed with him and provoked the beast in him, so he was going to unleash it. He was going to become the demon he had always feared he would become.

His sight changed rapidly, focusing on silhouettes near the window. His ears began to pick up noises coming from the ground floor while his grip on his sword tightened. He fit his mask on properly and pulled his dagger out with his left hand.

He spotted a number of police cars on the road which were in flames. Dead police officers were strewn all over the place, making for an ugly sight. These guys were good- they had taken out an entire police force.

But he was better.

He calmly walked through the main door and found himself face-to-face with a mercenary right away. The mercenary seemed to stumble back in surprise, but Gregor wasn't going to give him the time to recover.

He threw his dagger into the mercenary's shoulder and then allowed the rager in him to dictate his movements. He gracefully ducked low and swung his blade hard, nearly cleaving off the man's right leg completely. With a howl of pain, he buckled to his knees, but Gregor wasn't done. He struck the mercenary's forehead with the hilt of his sword, and then used his free hand to break the mercenary's right wrist.

He ignored the screams of pain and yanked out his dagger. He then plunged it into the mercenary's solar plexus, resulting in the man choking out blood and screaming even louder.

Good. Now his friends knew who they were dealing with. Gregor tossed his sword to one side and stood up, towering over the man like a god from hell.

"Please!" the mercenary yelled. "I'll do anything for you! I'll work for you!"

Gregor shook his head and placed his right foot on the mercenary's throat. "No," he said simply.

And then he pressed down with his foot.

* * *

 **This chapter shows a reversal to the dark and angry Gregor that was quite prominent earlier in my trilogy. But don't worry, he won't stay like this forever. His brutality is only fueled by the possible loss of his family, so… Yea. He's pissed.**

 **Hope the writing was good enough for y'all. Favourites and follows are encouraged, but please remember to review too!**

 **Question: Would you like to see a Christmas special this Christmas Eve? Let me know!**


	26. Chapter 26: Black and White

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the late update, it's been really busy this Christmas! I hope y'all are just as hyped up for it as I am, cos' the spirit of Christmas really touches my heart and I've always wanted to share it with everyone. So… Yes I can confirm that I'm doing a Christmas special this year!**

 **Before I go on, I'd like to thank the following people from the bottom of my heart for reviewing my story: Im Blu, THExPOTxHEAD, Iron Carnotaur, koipbuiop, Malorn Fairytail, NoahTheOverlander, Gyltig, MarbleSky,a guest reader, TheGreatAthlon5, another guest reader, The Writer of all Mistakes, phantom1299, Randonfire, Jacob laroche(nice to meet you!), Moeez, TH3 EL3TR1C, HumanicHedgeHog and Clytuis. Each and every one of you has really touched my heart, because to put in the effort to review someone else's story is no easy feat… I just really wanna thank you all, and thank all those other people who have reviewed my story over the past year.**

 **Thank you to all my readers for being patient with me and bearing with me even if the pace of the story has been really slow compared to my previous stories. I'm sincerely grateful for having you guys, I really am.**

 **This chapter is written from Grace's perspective for the very first time!**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Black and White**

Grace knew fear as a warrior knew a familiar adversary- she had been subject to its taunting while it desecrated her, threatening to consume her identity and soul. But she hadn't known a fear as violent as this.

She felt like it was forcing its head down her throat, drowning out her assertive and powerful vocal chords and leaving her mute in her family's greatest time of need. She was just as helpless as when she thought she had lost her husband for good, just as helpless as when she suffered from the plague, just as helpless as when…

Just as helpless as when Gregor left her.

She hadn't realised that in her bid to keep him close to her bosom, she had inadvertently driven him away. She had alienated her son and had blinded herself to his transformation through sheer pig-headed stubbornness.

Of course, the rest of the family didn't know her true feelings about the matter. She maintained an air of steadfast conviction in her beliefs, that Gregor belonged in the Overland, safe and far away from the treacherous monsters that roamed under New York City. But deep down, her fight with Gregor had shaken her and instilled seeds of doubt, seeds which had continued to grow and gnaw away at her resolve over the last five years.

It was only a matter of time before she began to blame herself for Gregor's decision to leave, which had left a yawning chasm in the heart and soul of the family. Lizzie was crushed and while Boots didn't quite understand the gravity of the situation, she was mature enough to comprehend the fact that her brother's absence had broken the spine of the family. Her husband James had tried to rectify the whole thing, desperately trying to communicate with Gregor and call their son home, but it was all in vain.

There was a massive schism when it came to the beliefs Grace and Gregor held… And as long as that was the case, he wouldn't return home to them. Gregor was as good as dead to the family.

But now, everything had changed. Their sudden kidnapping, meant to spur Gregor on to return home to fight for the family, had altered the status quo on a magnitude like no other. Suddenly, she could no longer mask her emotions and was left in a vulnerable heap in front of a bunch of strangers who were training their weapons on her.

The fear which seized her was even worse, though. She had always prided herself on being a strong, independent woman, but when facing the barrel of a gun, she suddenly found herself bending at the knee before a man she didn't know. It violated her, undermining the principles she had about never backing down, but it couldn't be helped.

Her life was far more important than the values she held… At least for now.

And for all the years she wished Gregor would walk through the family door, she currently hoped to heaven that Gregor would not return for them. She had heard the rumours, of course, that her son was a natural born killer, but she had never seen it herself to confirm it. It was all just hearsay to her, a lie fabricated to boost the image of her son and perhaps even weaved to urge him to go to battle as a soldier. But based on the tense body language of the mercenaries, she wasn't very sure anymore.

In any case, natural born killer or not, he didn't stand a chance against these guys. There were at least a dozen of them, and every single mercenary was armed with a rifle which looked far more fatal than any sword forged by Hephaestus himself. Gregor had no way of getting to them without dying.

At that thought, Grace closed her eyes and fought back the tears which began to well up. Gregor, even as he became a man, was still a little boy in her eyes. Even if he hadn't been a kid since his father left, she had always seen him the same- a precious, invaluable jewel to be protected at all costs. He was her one and only son, the one who would pass down the family name to a new generation of Walkers.

And she was hours, maybe even minutes, away from losing the boy she had devoted her life to. Her heart was so broken by his exit five years ago, that she wasn't sure if it could shatter even further anymore by having to watch him die in front of her.

She had prayed countless unheard prayers for him not to return, but it amounted to wasted breath in the end. The futility slapped her hard across the face when she heard one mercenary mumble, "He's here. Bravo team is moving forward to engage."

The seconds, in a horrifically merciless twist of fate, seemed to inch by even slower, creating agonising tension in the room unfelt…

Unfelt…

Since he had locked horns with her years ago.

The memories suddenly assaulted her, transporting her to a time when she was adamant on keeping the family together, unaware that it would fracture the fabric which held it in place. Opinions and desires hadn't been unearthed yet, but a couple of sentences by Gregor had been enough to trigger a fierce reaction from her.

* * *

" _It's not happening," Grace said firmly. "And you know why."_

" _No, I don't happen to," Gregor shot back. "Care to enlighten me?"_

 _James cleared his throat, and his following words cut through the tension in the air like a knife through butter. "I don't think this is necessary. Can we all just calm down?"_

 _But Grace was not ready to calm down, especially not when her son was adopting that kind of attitude and challenging her. "Not now, James!" she snapped at her husband. "I'm finishing this with Gregor."_

" _It'll take the whole night," James sighed exasperatedly. "Can we all just go to bed and discuss this in the morning, when we're all not so tired?"_

" _No," Grace replied bluntly. "I don't care if it takes the whole night. I'm finishing this conversation once and for all."_

 _She stared into her son's eyes, which burned with passion and anger she hadn't seen in him before. She took an involuntary gulp of fear and continued to eye him from head to toe. Aggressive body language- clenched fists, grinding teeth, and a look of sturdy determination as he began to square her up._

 _This wasn't going to end quickly._

 _She straightened up as well, although she was well aware that he towered over her easily. But she was his mother, and no amount of techniques he employed to intimidate her would work. Not on Grace, who had stubbornly fought her way through enormous obstacle after enormous obstacle to keep this family together. Gregor wasn't going to undo everything she had fought to protect._

 _She had never envisioned assuming this purpose for the family when she had first married James. She expected it to be a quiet affair, as they plodded through placid lives, conforming to society's demands without much fuss and maintaining meek personalities which would allow them to get along well. Not excellently, but this family never aimed for any more than the average._

 _But here she was, taking her son on in a verbal fight. She knew it would never escalate to becoming anything physical… Hell, she doubted he would even use any profanities, let alone any against her._

" _So," Gregor began, in a voice that made her spine tingle, "give me FIVE good reasons why I can't go back there."_

" _You only need one," she replied. "And it's our safety."_

" _Safety?" Gregor chuckled. "Mom, they've been living peacefully for YEARS. The rats and humans are living together now, they're not fighting."_

" _How do you know that?" she fired back. "You don't know all these things, do you? What if they began fighting again? What if a new disease has hit them again? You don't know, Gregor, and you can't just go back there without knowing what's going on."_

 _That was the logical peak of the conversation, when they were both considering each other's arguments rationally. But then the emotion began to creep into Gregor's voice as he replied, "You don't understand, you never did. I'm a soldier, Mom. I can protect all of you without even trying! At least give me a chance to try the place out."_

" _I've spent money and blood and tears and God knows what building our lives up here," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. "Why do you want to give it all up? Down there, you're a soldier. At least up here, you're safe."_

" _I'm NOBODY up here," Gregor said fiercely. "Mom, I'm a prisoner at best. I've had… anger issues. You know that. In the Underland, they value people with this kinda condition. I can consult Ripred on how to control it better. But up here? Up here they'll put me into a mental institution. They don't understand what I am, Mom. I need to go back there."_

" _Is this what it is about?" Grace responded coldly. "Your ego? You want to feel like a celebrity?"_

 _Gregor's face was turning red, and Grace was starting to question whether it was from embarrassment, or something much darker. "That's not what it is," he said, "Why do you always like to twist the situation to humiliate me? I'm eighteen, I can make decisions for myself. I don't need to seek you out for permission to leave, and the last thing I expect is to be humiliated by you."_

" _Maybe I wouldn't humiliate you," Grace said exasperatedly, "if you actually used your brain, like your sister. Son, our lives would constantly be in danger if we lived down there."_

" _Grace," James said softly, "Don't be so harsh on the boy."_

" _I need to be," she insisted obstinately. "He's not thinking right."_

" _Oh for Christ's sake," Gregor sputtered out as he spun around, throwing a hand up dismissively._

" _Don't turn your back on me, Gregor," Grace called out at him._

 _Gregor didn't have to turn around to reveal his expression. His hands settled on his head, which was the calm before the storm. His fingers suddenly grabbed tufts of hair and coiled it up, the brown entwining itself like roots around his bony fingers. He yanked hard, and as a mother it was hard for Grace not to wince at the action._

" _Gregor," she said, "Face me."_

 _He turned around and Grace's heart skipped a beat. He had a face of thunder, his lips curling into a bitter snarl and his eyes blood red from both tears and anger. And when he spoke, she couldn't help but shrink slightly on the inside._

" _You never understood," he seemed to whisper. "I don't belong here. I belong down there with my friends."_

" _Your friends?" Grace repeated, slowly and deliberately to infuse disbelief into her tone. "Your friends? We're your family, Gregor. We should take priority, not your friends. I am your mother."_

" _Unfortunately," Gregor said tersely, eliciting a gasp from James._

" _Gregor," Lizzie said uncertainly, "I'm not sure…"_

" _Not now, Lizzie," Gregor grunted, his steely gaze penetrating straight through Grace and his words digging right into her heart._

 _She fought back tears as she replied, "If this is how you'll talk to me, then I won't even consider your request."_

" _You never did."_

 _He spoke the truth- under no circumstances would she ever let him return to the Underland. It was far too dangerous for him, yet he couldn't seem to see it. He had been blinded by the love of his friends and the hatred of the Overland, and now he was more delusional than she had ever seen him._

" _Your stupid friends have blinded you," she said spitefully. "That brat Luxa and that disgusting old rat-"_

" _Ripred," Gregor interrupted her._

" _Sorry?"_

" _His name is Ripred."_

" _I don't care," she said scathingly, "All I care about-"_

" _He's saved my life countless times," Gregor said slowly, trembling with rage. "Say his name."_

" _Don't be ridiculous."_

" _He's saved your life too."_

" _So what?"_

" _I SAID SAY IT!" Gregor roared, slamming his fist down onto the table. James stood up immediately, while Lizzie and Boots quickly backed away._

" _Have some control, young man," James warned, "Or you'll have to deal with me too."_

" _It's her," Gregor said, his voice choked with emotion. He looked around for a bit, trying to hide the tears welling up in his eyes as he sought a reply. Finally, he spoke up, "She's driven… She's driven this entire house mad. She thinks she knows best, but she has no idea… No idea how much I've been hurt by her."_

 _The pain in Gregor's voice was so raw, so real, that Grace found tears welling up in her eyes too. She hated seeing her son suffer, and to see him looking so broken and defeated was heartbreaking for her. But she also realised that she had to do what was best for him._

 _She knew she was currently the culprit of his agony, but she had to swallow the bitter pill. She had to take the brunt of his hatred, as long as it meant he was safe._

 _Gregor turned to Lizzie and pleaded, "Please, Lizzie, back me up here. The bitch isn't listening to me, so I need your help."_

" _GREGOR!" James thundered._

" _You're just as bad as her," Gregor spat at him resentfully. "You don't have the guts to tell her how much we've suffered up here. You could have kept us in New York and allowed us to stay in the Underland, but you're far too weak."_

" _Don't you dare call me weak," James seethed, "after all I've endured for this family."_

" _Then prove you're not," Gregor challenged his father. "Prove you're strong. Tell her to let me go back."_

 _James shook his head. "You know I can't take sides in this fight."_

 _Gregor's vehement desire to convince Grace to let him leave for the Underland was ironically digging an even deeper grave for him. No one was going to side with him, not in this maniacal state of his. All the years of pent-up bitterness and rage had culminated into this argument, yet it had backfired so, so spectacularly for him._

" _Boots?" he called out hopefully._

 _Boots shook her head. "I can't even remember what it's like, Gregor. I don't know… I don't know…"_

 _Gregor, looking close to defeat, finally swivelled to face his mother head on once more. "Are you done?" she asked him pointedly._

" _No," came his biting reply, "I'm going to go through you next."_

" _There's nothing to go through," she replied. "I've made my stand clear, and I don't intend to change it, especially since you've been behaving like a rabid dog."_

" _Cunt," he breathed._

" _What did you call me?" she asked, almost shocked to hear such a vile word slip out of Gregor's mouth._

" _I called you a cunt," he said bluntly._

 _She felt violated by the very word. It was just as bad as a slap across the face. It felt like a dagger to the heart. A dagger driven home by her own son, piercing the throbbing muscle and evoking pain and sadness in its most untainted state. No taste of sweetness, just sheer bitterness as it rolled past her tongue and down her throat. It was like consuming poison designed by the person she trusted the most._

" _After all I've done for you," she said quietly, struggling to restrain the hurt from entering her voice, "after all the effort and blood and sweat and tears and… after all that, you still call me a cunt."_

 _Gregor's tears were now fully visible as he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's true," he managed to force out. "I'm dying up here, Mom. I can't… This place isn't meant for me. If you truly love me, you have to let me go back there."_

 _Gregor's words may have been gentler, but they still left cuts just as deep. He was begging to leave the family to survive on his own, in a place where someone's life was in perennial danger until it was over. He wouldn't be able to see it now, but years after he had spent his hatred on her, perhaps he would recognise the sacrifice she was making._

 _She was sacrificing his love for her in exchange for his safety._

" _No," she almost whispered. "I cannot do that in good conscience, Gregor. You won't understand why I did this, but maybe years from now, when you have your own children, you might…"_

" _Don't," Gregor turned away for a second, seemingly disgusted by her words. "Don't… Don't pretend that you know what's going to happen in the future. All I asked for is my old life back, but you…. You can't see what I've been through."_

" _I can," Grace said sadly, "and that's the reason why I can't let you go."_

" _STOP IT!" Gregor roared, slamming his fist down onto the table. "STOP PRETENDING YOU LOVE ME!"_

" _I do," Grace said._

 _Those two words broke whatever was left of Gregor. Tears finally rolled down his face, and still shaking his head, he turned to Lizzie and asked, "Will you help me speak to her?"_

 _Lizzie sighed and looked away. "You know I can't."_

 _Gregor, vanquished at last, only shot Grace one last glance of loathing as he said, "Fine. I'll do it myself."_

* * *

Grace remembered how James and Lizzie had chased after Gregor, while she and Boots just stared at the chaos unfolding in front of them, dazed by the surreal turn of events. It was a moment that she could never forget, not until she was lowered into her grave.

It was more than just a harrowing experience, it was a life-changing one as well. She could only wistfully think back to the days of-

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by gunfire downstairs, followed by bloodcurdling screams as the gunfire died down. She looked up at James, whose resigned body posture said it all.

Their son was dead.

Lizzie closed her eyes and stingy tears trickled down her cheeks. Lizzie had grown to hate crying, but even now it was hard to stomach the fact that her brother was gone. Boots, as usual, still looked dazed and confused. The last forty-eight hours had shocked her system and she was probably still reeling from the whole sequence of events. Grace didn't expect her youngest child to react to Gregor's death, at least for now.

"Bravo team," one of the mercenaries spoke up, "Come in."

No response.

"Bravo team," the mercenary repeated. "I repeat, come in."

No response.

The mercenary adjusted his microphone for a couple of seconds, clearly disturbed by the monotonous crackling noise coming from the other end of the line. The other mercenaries in the room seemed to tense up, as their fingers now rested impatiently on the trigger of their rifles.

"Bravo team has been compromised," one of the mercenaries said. "We-"

He was interrupted as the door to the room suddenly flew off its hinges and sailed over the Walkers' heads, crashing into the wall behind them and breaking into a shower of splinters. It was followed by the body of a mercenary, which landed with a thud in front of the other mercenaries.

They all trained their weapons towards the entrance to the room, waiting for the adversary to enter.

Seconds ticked by.

And ticked by.

And then a full minute passed as they continued to aim at the entrance, fully prepared for a sudden acceleration into the room by… by whoever had the strength to throw an entire door across the room.

Then the wall on the right of the room blew up.

The mercenaries stumbled backwards in surprise as smoke clouded the room. Light spilled forward and lit up the floor, still uncontaminated by the heavy black clouds that billowed in. Grace coughed violently, her eyes settling on Lizzie, who seemed to be on the verge of embarking on yet another panic attack. But then her gaze quickly flitted back towards the broken wall…

Where a black shadow stood.

The sinister silhouette seemed to scream its own presence against the backdrop of the light. It was so still, as if all the time in the world didn't matter to it. Then its head seemed to swivel round to gaze at Grace. It was a gaze that seemed so familiar to her, like she had been subject to an intense stare by this shadow before.

The shadow turned to face the mercenaries.

With blinding speed that must have belonged to a demon, it shot across the room and took down one mercenary within seconds, driving its blade into the man multiple times before grabbing the body by the throat and hurling him towards his comrades.

The demon then reared up to full height, and Grace's attempt to scream was muffled by the fear which now blocked her throat. The demon must have been at least 6 foot, and seemed to possess enough strength to drag every one of those bastards down into hell. She scrambled backwards, still stunned by what she was seeing in front of her.

The mercenaries finally regained their composure and all of them opened fire at the the demon swung its blade up and…

And…

Started deflecting the bullets aside.

"GET DOWN!" James yelled as the deflected bullets started to ricochet around the room.

Grace pressed her face against the cold floor, but still tilted her head upwards to see what was going on. The demon was advancing forward slowly but surely, its hands a blur as its sword arced through the air, adjusting itself brilliantly to make contact with each and every bullet heading in its direction. There was a certain flair and swagger about it, like this was what it was born to do…

It was born to be a killer.

It sprang forward and crashed into the mercenaries with full force, scattering them and sending them sliding and skidding all over the place. The demon, defying the laws of this universe, seemed to recover faster than them. It got up and grabbed one mercenary by the throat, lifting the man up and slamming him back down.

The demon suddenly appeared to develop a sixth sense when it lashed out with a kick to its right without even looking, its foot connecting with the mercenary and sending the mercenary flying backwards.

The demon then spun around and nearly cleaved an entire head off with one swing of its blade. Grace's stomach began performing somersaults as blood sprayed out over the floor and the man's head lulled backwards.

The demon reacted even quicker than a mercenary sneaking up behind it. It grabbed a rifle on the ground and swung it hard, with the stock connecting hard with the mercenary's face. The demon followed up by driving its blade with full force into the mercenary's heart, causing Grace to flinch as dying gasps punctuated every move made by the demon.

One relatively unharmed mercenary pulled out his pistol and fired at the demon, but once again the demon produced an unearthly reflex and deflected the bullets aside. The mercenary, realising he was probably going to die, desperately drew out another pistol and fired at the demon.

But the demon casually and skilfully dodged or deflected them while slowly getting to his feet. The mercenary tossed his pistols aside and raised his hands up high. "I'm sorry," he said. "Just please don't kill me, I don't-"

His pleas for mercy were cut short by the demon, who killed off any remaining last words by grabbing the man's throat. The demon then inhaled for a few seconds, almost like it was considering what was the best course of action. But Grace had seen that aggressive body posture before- it wasn't that of a bloodthirsty entity, but it did reveal one thing.

The demon did not intend to show mercy.

It rammed its blade through the mercenary, with the end of the blade jutting out of his back. The mercenary gripped hold of the blade and tried to pull it back out of his body, but the demon maintained its position as the man struggled on. Finally, the demon squeezed hard and suffocated the mercenary, causing him to go limp.

The demon tossed the body aside like he was discarding trash, before turning to look…

Straight at Grace.

She stared at it and it stared back at her for what felt like hours. She could barely make out its outline, but it was definitely humanoid. Complete darkness, a gleaming sword, a dagger in its left hand… details which Grace could make out, but nothing more. This demon was unrecognisable to her, yet it bore a resemblance to something which belonged to the distant past… Somehow its existence right in front of her seemed so paradoxical that no matter how much she feared it, she couldn't help but feel intrigued by it.

Suddenly, a mercenary burst through the entrance and aimed at the demon before pulling hard on the trigger. The gunfire roared like rhythmic drumbeats as they hurtled through the air, ready to deliver devastating damage to the monster in the room. But the demon, once again, calmly deflected the bullets with one hand, and then reared its other hand back…

Before throwing a dagger straight at the mercenary.

The dagger embedded itself in the mercenary's shoulder, triggering a sharp yelp of pain from the man as he dropped the gun. The demon then raced forward and sprang high up in the air, so high its head seemed to brush against the ceiling…

And delivered a brutal kick to the mercenary's head.

The mercenary hit the ground hard and for a split second, Grace wondered if the kick had been powerful enough to kill him. But ragged breathing could suddenly be heard from the corner, and they knew he was still alive. But then the demon started to head towards it, which meant that the mercenary was probably better off dead.

The demon yanked the dagger out of the mercenary's shoulder, before impaling it into the mercenary's wrist, pinning the man to the ground. Another intense scream of pain followed, but the demon didn't seem to care. Instead, it took off its helmet to reveal greasy dark hair, and a face so familiar and yet so unfamiliar to Grace.

It was Gregor.

Gregor.

The shock of the moment overwhelmed any other emotion that Grace had become accustomed to over the last hour.

Her son had returned home, and was living and breathing right in front of her.

Gregor had come back home to his family.

Gregor.

The stream of thoughts and indescribable feelings were cut short by the young man himself. "Where is Calvin?" he asked the mercenary through gritted teeth. "Where is he?"

"Please," the mercenary begged, "I'll give you money, I just want to-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Gregor yelled slamming his fist down, missing the mercenary's face by inches. "Tell me where Calvin is, or your next words will be your last."

"The Underland," the mercenary blurted out, trying his utmost not to meet Gregor's gaze. "He- He's down there, with Snake and um… the fox."

"Flavius?" Gregor pressed him.

"Yes," the mercenary said, gulping. "They're at the military base, and the foxes are joining us there."

"And what do they plan to do with him?"

"Interrogate him," the mercenary answered obediently. "They want him to tell them Regalia's weaknesses and… and confess any other details which might help our operation."

Gregor just grunted in response. "Please," the mercenary added desperately, "I have a wife and a kid. I just wanna return home to them."

"Then you should have thought about them before taking up this job," Gregor growled as he raised his blade.

But just before he brought it down onto the mercenary, his gaze met Grace's. Nothing transpired between the two of them- there was no telepathy, no communication, nor did Grace intend to relay any message to him. All she did was stare into her son's eyes.

And something changed in them.

Gregor suddenly halted his movement and looked down at the mercenary, before turning back to look at his family. Lizzie and Boots were cowering in fear, but Grace and James just watched their one and only son, refusing to convey any opinion about what he was about to do.

And just like that, he dropped his sword.

Instead, he lashed out with a ferocious punch that knocked the mercenary out, before pulling the dagger out of his wrist. He then turned around to look at his family, and they looked back at him. Grace didn't know what to think of what she had just witnessed- fear or elation that her son had come back for them.

He had changed so much… His face looked weathered, and his stubble made him seem closer to forty than twenty. His muscles looked so much more attuned to battle, and even his expression displayed the maturity which had aged him so much over the last five years. She didn't know what he had seen, nor did she intend to find out. Whatever he had experienced had truly killed the little boy in her son, and all that was left now was the warrior in him.

His mouth seemed to itch towards turning into a scowl, another sign of the grizzled disillusionment that appeared to latch onto him like a leech, draining him of the youthful, exuberant innocence he once possessed.

But no matter how he had changed, he was still her son.

She got up to her feet slowly and shuffled forward, still having to adjust to standing up following the ordeal she had been subjected to. But no matter how difficult or arduous it was, she still had to do it, because her son had come home.

The prodigal child of hers had come good at last.

Embracing him, she whispered quietly as tears began to flow out, "Welcome home, Gregor."

"I love you Mom," he said softly as he hugged her back.

And he finally said what she never thought he would ever say to her-

"I'm sorry."

* * *

 **Not my longest chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it. A little more action than the previous one, but again, not too much. The pace is deliberately slower at the moment, but it will slowly ascend to becoming much more explosive later on. And I'm fairly pleased to announce that Flavius will be making an appearance very soon! Probably the chapter after next.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this from Grace's perspective… I just thought it'd be interesting to provide greater insight into her personal beliefs and thoughts, and I thought that seeing Gregor from a third person perspective would enhance his image, and present him like a reaper when fighting in battle.**

 **So… About the Christmas special. Seeing as Christmas is around the corner, I actually plan to release it within the next forty-eight hours, simply because there's an important message I wish to convey as the Christmas season hits its peak. It's less fluffy and there's less humour this time, as I'm hoping to make it more heartwarming rather than funny. So… I hope you guys are looking forward to it!**

 **Favourites/follows are encouraged, please review as well!**

 **Question: Pitch a Christmas special, and the plot might be used for next year's special! (Yes, I plan to do one every year for as long as I possibly can)**


	27. Chapter 27: Painful Reunion

**Hi everyone! Happy New Year! I'm very grateful to have been part of this long journey with many of you, and there are just too many people for me to thank.I've been writing over the last two years, and although it has been gruelling, I've realised that my faith in many of you has not been misplaced, and I've rarely been let down by my readers.**

 **As is tradition, I'd like to thank the people who reviewed my story since I posted my last chapter: THExPOTxHEAD, Iron Carnotaur, TH3 EL3TR1C, TheGreatAthlon5, koipbuiop, pyro159, Reaper Whisper, NoahTheOverlander, Jacob Laroche, Im Blu, Clytuis, phantom1299, PincheeX (pleasure to meet you) and last but not least, Gyltig.**

 **The intensity in this chapter isn't very high, but I wanted to have Gregor meet with each family member and either iron his differences out with them or build upon their relationship. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Painful Reunion**

Gregor dragged the last couple of bodies towards the corner of the kitchen and piled them on top of the rest. The one mercenary still alive was bound and gagged, and Gregor had deliberately placed him in the opposite corner of the room. When he woke up- and he was going to wake up soon- he would be greeted by his silent comrades. That would be enough time for the fear to rise up in his chest again.

He hadn't escaped from the fight unscathed. His fight with the mercenaries downstairs had left him with a nasty gash on his inner thigh. But with the typical doggedness that Gregor had learned to teach himself through harsh discipline, he just shrugged it off. That gash was nothing compared to the fatal wounds he had inflicted on at least a dozen of them.

He had frightened himself just as much as he had frightened everyone else who had witnessed his rampage. His massacre was a chilling reminder of how he could lose control of himself when driven to a certain point. A certain point which was particularly familiar in his case, because in the seconds leading up to his fight with the mercenaries, he remembered when he had felt that feeling before-

It was when he thought Boots had died. He recognised the ice which crept up his body, making him feel numb as it encircled his heart and turning him into a ruthless killer when it reached his forehead. He had lost all emotions- they were bland and tasteless to him. Fear was merely a word, while anger had somehow been dissolved by the coldness which now fueled his actions.

He still tried to use Damien's image to restrain and leash his desire to succumb to his rager abilities, but even then it was far from adequate. He could still bullishly block out the image through sheer anger, especially when the safety of his family was at stake. And yet he knew that his family's safety should never serve as justification for a moment of rage.

He had blitzed his way through them like he was tearing through paper. None of their lives had any kind of value to him, and that was the crux of the problem. While Gregor plowed through them, he had forgotten about their humanity. Killing some of them was perhaps necessary, but the way he almost eviscerated others… Gregor had deliberately tried to strike fear into their hearts.

He could almost imagine the hopelessness and resignation some of the mercenaries felt as he swatted their bullets aside as if they were flies, advancing forward with ruthless menace. He had trapped them in a real life horror movie, and it was just as terrifying to him as it was to them. He almost savoured every stroke or cut or kill.

In a moment of pure brutality, he had become more a force of nature than a man. And that concerned him because he had been training himself over the last couple of years to rein in his hunger to become a rager. If anger could push him over the edge so easily, then Snake could manipulate it to push him to hurt others he didn't want to hurt.

It was all about self-discipline and control, which Gregor had failed to master. It was only when he truly possessed complete and utter control that he would be able to wield unstoppable power. But without that control, the power would threaten to consume him and dictate his actions, which would make him just as corrupt as someone like Flavius.

He glanced over at the mercenary he had left alive. The only reason he had been left alive was because Gregor had decided to look at his mother. He saw a myriad of emotions in her eyes, ranging from fear to confusion to surprise. And somewhere amongst that cocktail of emotions, he caught a glimpse of disappointment- the son she knew would never bring his blade down on another human being.

The mercenary in front of him had suddenly become a human, a person who had a wife and a kid. Someone who was probably trying to seek a better life for his family and himself, but was consigned to this fate for the time being. Everybody was a victim of circumstance at some point, so maybe… just maybe… he was being forced to do this. Gregor had no right to execute him wildly, especially since he had offered to leave quietly.

It was all about striking a balance, and Gregor had to contend with that balance every day. His paradoxical role as the Warrior invited that kind of dilemma and conflict. He hated every moment of it, but someone had to do the dirty work. It was moments when he was at odds with himself that he wondered if he was better off dead- Dead, and in paradise with Luxa. He had no right to impose that kind of outcome on her, but personally? He wanted to escape it all. Escape this reality and hide in a fantasy for the rest of his life.

He lifted his blade up and gazed at his own reflection. The dirt and blood symbolised the gritty violence he had been a part of for years, while the pain in his eyes screamed of the conflict that existed deep down in his soul. It wasn't just about his murderous instincts… It was about home as well. He was deeply conflicted about his opinion of coming back as the prodigal son to a place which had represented the growing hatred that had killed the old, innocent Gregor in him.

"I thought you broke that," Lizzie's voice resounded through the deathly silence.

He turned around to face his sister, who was leaning against the wall in fresh clothes. She was paler than a ghost, but that was understandable considering what she had just experienced. The ordeal seemed to bring out the wisdom in her eyes, which seemed a bit more piercing through square-rimmed spectacles. Her hair fell like placid waves over her shoulder, the only part of her that seemed uncontaminated by the mercenaries' kidnapping.

Gregor was glad to see her again.

"I did," he replied, holding it up against the sunlight that broke through fading clouds. "They repaired it for me."

"You resurrected the Warrior?" Lizzie asked, seemingly intrigued.

"I guess you could say that," he answered, placing it down on the table. He paused for a moment, before asking, "How have the last five years been?"

Lizzie sighed. "It's been tough. Dad was pretty shaken up when you left. I think he's just sick of losing family members over and over again."

Gregor just grunted. He didn't know how to respond to that.

"We recovered, though," Lizzie went on. "Boots is doing alright in school, and Dad's been promoted to being a department head. And I was accepted into Princeton."

"Princeton?"

"For science," she quickly added.

"Wow," Gregor said, nodding his head in pride and approval. "You've done great, Liz."

"Thanks," she said shyly, before her tone dropped slightly. "I wish you were here to celebrate with us."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," Gregor replied grimly. "It wasn't the right time…. It still isn't."

"You came back for us," she said staunchly. "That's all that matters."

"I should have been here from the start," he said, grimacing on the inside. "I left you all exposed to this."

"How would you have defended us?" Lizzie pointed out. "They surprised us. If you were here, they would have killed you before you could even reach out for your sword."

Damn, Lizzie was still as sharp as ever… Even after being put through hell.

"How was the Underland?" she asked him, changing the topic quickly.

"It's been tough," he admitted. "Things aren't that rosy down there either. It's… complicated."

"And Ripred?" she pressed urgently.

Gregor could hear the fear in her voice, like she was worried that the one Underlander who truly understood her was dead. At that thought, Gregor almost flinched in disgust at his own actions. Ripred's life meant the world to his sister, yet Gregor had smashed and hacked the rat to a pulp, blinded him in one eye and was seconds away from ending his life before he abruptly came to his senses.

Gregor would tell Lizzie about it another day. He didn't know how he was going to explain the whole situation to her. It would be a _very_ long story.

"The old rat's still alive," he replied. "He's sustained a lot of shit over the last few years, but he's still largely in one piece."

Lizzie breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. "I'm glad he's still alive. I've always wanted to see him one last time before he goes."

Gregor tided over another awkward moment with quick thinking, swiftly saying, "He's a hard rat. I'm sure you'll get to see the son of a bitch again."

"Who's Calvin?" Lizzie asked abruptly, doing the hard work for Gregor by switching topics once more.

"My friend," Gregor replied. "He brought me back to the Underland. You saw him?"

Lizzie frowned, and the frown soon evolved into a downcast wince. "He came here to fight the mercenaries with an older man. He was beaten up and taken alive by them but the old man was killed by-"

"Snake," Gregor finished, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice. "He killed Mr Carter and has Calvin down there."

Lizzie looked genuinely disturbed by the mention of Snake's name. "It was awful to witness," she said softly. "Calvin was distraught. Snake killed Mr Carter right in front of him."

"Poor kid," Gregor mumbled. Mr Carter had been a father figure for Calvin in the aftermath of Richard Oberton's death. It was pretty much the equivalent of Gregor losing his own dad.

"I've seen Calvin in newspapers" Lizzie remarked. "He's appeared on _Forbes_ and _The Economist_. He's the world's youngest male billionaire."

"He's been living quite the life," Gregor commented.

"He's a very eligible bachelor," Lizzie said. "Handsome and rich… The press couldn't get enough of him. You have quite a friend, Gregor."

"He's saved my life a number of times," Gregor admitted. "He's more than just handsome and rich. He's a good kid and has a heart of gold. I only wish I was as brave as he was."

"You used to be, you know," Gregor's father suddenly interjected as he entered through the damaged door frame.

"I changed," Gregor said weakly. "I left that side of me behind when we first left. I left the old Gregor behind and brought the Warrior up here."

"No," his father disagreed, shaking his head. "You and the Warrior are one and the same. Both sides of you are shaped by the other's personality. And the result is you, Gregor."

Once again, Gregor found himself having to navigate another awkward situation. A particular tendency of his father's was to view things in a very philosophical way, being the intellectual he was. It was an unspoken fact that Lizzie had inherited his father's brains, and right now he was demonstrating why he was sometimes too smart for his own good.

The truth was that Gregor knew himself best. He used to be more idealistic and he remembered standing up for his principles and beliefs. Violence was not to be used if it was unnecessary. Peace trumped war. And yet all his righteousness had come to naught when he was exposed to the horrors of the War of Time. And without even realising it, that virtuous part of himself had died down there.

He was trying his darndest to bring it back to life, though. It was a gruelling path to redemption which had only begun after his fight with Ripred, but he was on his way there. The fight with the mercenaries was a brief relapse into darker territory, but he was adamant on pulling himself out of the abyss of anger and rage.

"Whatever," he responded with a shrug. "I'm trying my best to pick myself up."

"Good for you," Lizzie said with a half-smile. "We didn't expect you back so soon, but… Things change, I guess."

"Neither did I," Gregor confessed. "I never thought I'd ever come back here. I mean, fighting with Mom and all was tough… I'm sure it was tough for you guys as well. I just… I just couldn't come back to face her."

"We would welcome you back with open arms," his father promised. "I swear to you, there's always a place for you at our table."

Gregor glanced at the battered table and afforded himself a chuckle. He wasn't going to be dining here anytime soon. "What are you guys going to do?"

"Your mom's calling the cops," his father told him. "They'll be here soon."

"How soon?" Gregor asked concernedly.

"I suspect half an hour at most," his father said honestly. "Why?"

"I'll have to leave this place before then," Gregor said gravely. "They'll have too many awkward questions to ask, and I won't be ready to answer them."

"Is it the armour?" Lizzie asked. "If it is, we can hide it for you. We can hide your sword and dagger too, if you'd like."

"No," Gregor replied. "They'll be wondering how these trained mercs were killed and why I'm suddenly back in Virginia. It's not hard to put two and two together. These mercs took out an ENTIRE police squad."

"Your mom won't like the fact that you're leaving again," his father warned him. "She's lost her children on countless occasions over the last few years. She needs you to be by her side."

"I know," Gregor said solemnly. "But I can't stay here. Calvin's still out there and he's counting on me."

"Your family needs you too," his father said pointedly. "We just got you back, Gregor. Leaving again would break your mother's heart, and mine as well."

Gregor turned to look at Lizzie. "You gonna back me up this time?"

Lizzie actually allowed a wry smile to play on her lips, before saying, "Dad, we have to let him go."

"But your mom-" his father began, but Lizzie quickly cut him off.

"She'll have to wait," Lizzie said softly. "Gregor doesn't belong here for now. I'm sure he'll come back when he can."

"I will," Gregor promised.

His father looked away for a second, before releasing a huge sigh in concession. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "Stay safe, son."

Gregor stepped forward and embraced his father, feeling the soulfulness in his father's hug. It was undoubtedly painful for his family to let go of him, but they had no choice. Gregor had to restrain tears as he felt his father's hug tighten, almost as if he wanted to keep Gregor by his side forever.

His father finally let go of him and limped out of the room. "Help me say 'hi' to Ripred," Lizzie said to Gregor, giving him a hug as well.

"I will," Gregor replied.

"What happened to you down there?" Lizzie asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you fought," she said. "You looked like a monster to me. I've never seen you fight like that."

Gregor sighed, before replying, "A lot of things happened down there, Liz. I'll tell you the whole story when I come back."

"Make sure you come back," she said fiercely.

Gregor reached out and ruffled her hair. "I'm proud of you, Lizzie. You've done well for this family and yourself."

She brushed her hand lightly against his. "Fly you high, Gregor."

He nodded gratefully, before leaving the room and walking up the creaking stairs. He winced as he stepped on the sticky redness which stained the stairs, unable to ignore how bullet-riddled they were and how the whole house was in shambles. It literally looked like a building which was plucked out of Mosul and dropped into the middle of Virginia.

He entered a relatively untouched room, where Boots was presenting tea to Mr Bennett. "Thank you, dear." he said gratefully to her.

"Boots," Gregor called out to her.

She turned around and faced him, brushing her fringe to one side to reveal lacerations on her temple. Her jaw was set firmly, as if she was determined not to show any pain. Eyes of soft chocolate brown, but again displaying ferocity and independence. She looked very much like Luxa in that sense.

"Nobody really calls me that anymore," she told him.

Gregor chuckled. "You go by Margaret now?"

"Either that or Maggie," she replied stiffly.

"Margaret's quite a mouthful," he said. "You ok with Maggie?"

"I literally just told you Maggie was ok," she replied bluntly.

"This one's feisty," Mr Bennett laughed.

Gregor actually broke out into a grin. "You've changed."

She grinned back. "So have you, apparently."

"When all this is over," Gregor said "I'll bring you down to the Underland and show you where you've been. You might not remember it, but I think it'll be cool to see the legacy you left down there."

"Sounds cool," she said tersely.

Gregor almost broke down out of nowhere. He was suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia as he remembered all his adventures together with her- the good and the bad, the laughs and the tears, the despair and the hope. He had bonded with her all those years ago, and while she may not have remembered it, he did.

And to see his little sister change so much was simultaneously heartbreaking and satisfying. She was growing up, and the remnants of her childhood would be consigned to history. He impulsively walked forward and gave her a hug. "I'm gonna come back for you," he said to her as tears slipped out of his eyes.

She hugged him back and said, "Love you, Gregor."

He let go of her and turned to Mr Bennett. "You ready to leave?"

Mr Bennett nearly spewed out the tea in his mouth. He coughed violently, before clearing his throat and saying, "I just got this cup of tea."

"I don't know where Calvin is," Gregor told him. "We have to start our search for him as soon as possible if we are to find him."

Mr Bennett immediately took one last sip of tea and placed the cup down. "Thank you very much for the tea, Margaret," he said to her, before springing to his feet.

"Bye Maggie," Gregor said to Boots.

She waved good bye to him, and breathing another heavy sigh, he elt the room with Mr Bennett. Just as he walked out of the house, he heard someone call out to him, "Gregor!"

Gregor spun around to find his mother waiting for him by the door. "Go and get the car ready first," he instructed Mr Bennett. "I'll join you in a moment."

Mr Bennett nodded and walked over to the car, which was still parked rather conspicuously against the forest green. He turned back to his mother, who had tears in her eyes.

"Your father told me you had to leave," she said simply.

"Mom-" he began, but she cut him off by putting up her hands.

"You don't need to explain to me," she said. "I understand it's necessary. Doesn't make the goodbye any easier, though."

Gregor's head dipped in sadness. "I'm sorry Mom," he apologised. "I don't want to make you suffer anymore, but it has to be done."

"Stay safe," she said to him, cupping his face with her hands now. "They won't spare you, Gregor. If you have to surrender to survive, do it."

Gregor hesitated, before replying, "I will do what I must."

"Swear to me that you'll come back to us," she begged him. "Swear to me."

"I swear I'll come back," he swore, his heart aching from the pleading look in her eyes. "You'll see me again."

She sighed in relief. "I thought I'd never see you again. I didn't want you to come back for us."

"I'll always come back for my family," Gregor said firmly. "Always."

"I thought they'd kill you," she admitted. "I thought you didn't stand a chance. I didn't know… didn't know… you were so skilled."

Skilled? She probably wanted to say murderous. His mother had never seen him fight as a rager. The only person who had truly witnessed it was Boots, and she couldn't remember what it was like. It must have come as a shock to his mother to see her son fighting like a bloodthirsty, barbaric maniac.

"I went through a lot when I was gone," he responded. "I was so.. Angry and frustrated and… Broken."

"I'm sorry for arguing with you, Gregor," she said. "I didn't know how much that place and its people meant to you. If I did, I think I would have let you go, but… I'd lost so much. We'd lost so much. I didn't want to lose you too."

"I understand Mom," he said. "I would have done the same if I were you."

She smiled gently and tenderly, but also with a hint of melancholy. The last forty-eight hours of turmoil and chaos had brought her on a heart-stopping roller coaster ride which must have liberated her just as much as it devastated her.

"How's Luxa?" she asked abruptly.

He froze for a split second, as his journey with Luxa seemed to realise itself before his very eyes. They had gone through so much together, both as friends and as a couple. He remembered the disdain he felt for her when she arrogantly showed off in front of Boots and him. But as time went on, he soon discovered that she was way more layered… As if she wore different masks for different occasions, and deep down inside was just a vulnerable girl who bore the world on her shoulders.

In a certain sense, he knew exactly how Luxa and his mother felt sometimes. At various points in their lives, they all had to bear the burden of supporting a whole family or society on their own. Gregor, of course, didn't have it as tough as either woman. Sure, he risked his day every single time he flew into battle with Ares or Apollo, but his mother and Luxa had to be strong when no one else could be.

They had to be role models for those they cared for- in the case of his mother, she had to stand up and fight to keep the family together, as Lizzie and Boots looked up to her as an example. Luxa had a more unenviable task- to become a figure of pride and strength for the rest of her people. Sure, her marriage with Conrad and certain policies she proposed ended up making her unpopular, but her commitment to the city meant she still had many, many admirers.

"Gregor?" his mother asked, snapping him out of his brief lapse into the memory lane.

"Luxa's doing fine, I guess," he answered. "She's really stressed and she's had a topsy-turvy year… But yea, I think she's fine."

"That's good to hear," his mother said with another warm smile. "Are you… Are you and Luxa… you know… together?"

"It's complicated," he replied awkwardly. "We were together, but the last couple of weeks have really strained things."

His mother's warm smile faded slightly. "Oh dear," she sighed. "I liked Luxa. She had real attitude. And I've always liked girls with real attitude."

"Mmm," Gregor just grunted, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"She's a good girl, Gregor," his mother said earnestly. "You don't want to lose someone like her. I've had arguments with your dad before, but… I always tried not to let it get in the way of the relationship. So no matter what happens between you and Luxa, you should always do your best to stay together. I have a good feeling you two make each other better."

He pondered on his mother's words seriously. Luxa… was one of a kind. That description didn't even do her justice, and it wasn't just because of her position as queen. To find a woman so independent and yet so kind and loving was… like winning the lottery ticket. Sure, she could be difficult, but his mother was absolutely right. He had to treasure her like gold.

"I'll do my best," he assured his mother.

"That's good to hear," she replied. "I hope to meet her again some day, you know. When you come back here, please bring her with you."

"We'll see," Gregor said, almost too cheerfully.

"Gregor!" Mr Bennett called out.

Gregor's expression darkened considerably. Lowering his head once more, his voice softened to a whisper. "Goodbye, Mom."

"Goodbye, son," she said, pulling him into one last hug on this compound. "Remember, I will always love you. Always."

"I love you too, Mom," he said in return.

"Stay safe," she said. "Remember the promise you kept."

Gregor let go of her and nodded firmly to reassure her. She just smiled at him one last time and wiped her tears on her sleeve, before walking back into the house.

Yet another painful goodbye for Gregor. Saving his family had brought him great comfort, but had brought along a great deal of misery as well. Having come back into their love and then bid it farewell within the space of a couple of hours was extremely strenuous for his broken heart. He had been spun around in a whirlwind of emotions, and yet he couldn't take a break from it all. There was still so much to do.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a weird object amongst the grass.

A… bomb?

Gregor's rager senses peaked once more, and he approached it carefully with his sword. The small object could barely be seen by the naked eye, but Gregor's vision had splintered and he could see it a bit more clearly. It seemed to beep ever so softly, threatening to…

He quickly snatched it up. It was some weird mechanism or machine, which irked Gregor slightly because he wasn't particularly well-versed in the different technological advancements over the last two or three years. But upon closer examination, he could see a screen, with faint lines spreading across it. Was it.. Was it…

A map?

Amongst all the confusing lines lay a glaring red dot which was constantly flashing. It seemed like it was trying to pinpoint a location on this map, to signal to its user that a certain object lay somewhere…

The cloud of confusion began to dissipate ever so slightly. He glanced around aimlessly, before looking back down at this machine. Clearly whatever it was tracking wasn't anywhere around here, so this tracking device was pinpointing the location of someone or something far away from here.

Did it belong to the mercenaries? Or perhaps…

He flipped the device over and almost gawked in shock.

Calvin's family logo was printed on the device.

This tracking device belonged to Calvin, and he had probably activated it so that someone out there could find him. In fact, Gregor wagered that Calvin had deliberately left that for him. He must have known that Gregor was going to come back for his family, and that he would find the device.

That kid really was clever.

He quickly rushed over to Mr Bennett, who had somehow revved the car engine up despite all the damage the vehicle had suffered. The caretaker drove it over to Gregor, who quickly sprang into the backseat.

"Why the rush, sir?" Mr Bennett asked excitedly. "Do you have a lead on Calvin?"

"Perhaps," Gregor replied, eyeing the device a bit more.

"Where to, sir?"

"Back to the mansion, Mr Bennett."

"Sir?" Mr Bennett asked questioningly. "I thought you had a lead on Calvin?"

"Maybe I do," Gregor replied. "I need to use one of the computers back in the mansion and see whether I can figure this little thing out."

He lifted the tracking machine up for Mr Bennett to see. The old caretaker's eyes widened in surprise and delight. "So he's still alive?" Mr Bennett asked.

"He may not be," Gregor said grimly. "But he should be. They need to interrogate him about Regalia. I just hope he's held them off long enough."

"Sir, with all due respect shouldn't we be following the directions from this device?" Mr Bennett questioned Gregor.

"I need time to get a better understanding of it," Gregor explained. "I'm going to need to find similar devices to find out how it works. Then you'll just stay at the mansion and handle the press."

"Sir?"

"One of the mercenaries told me that Calvin's down in the Underland, being held by Snake and Flavius. There's not much help you can provide."

"But you can't be going alone, sir!" Mr Bennett exclaimed.

"I won't be," Gregor replied, feeling adrenaline pumping through his body.

He knew that whilst the timing wasn't exactly right, he had no choice but to ask for help. Calvin was going to need all the support he was going to get, but it could only be achieved if Gregor embarked on a covert mission. A covert mission where they would sneak in, kill quickly and break Calvin out of there. It was going to take more than just Gregor, and it was going to require the best.

Three individuals at most- Gregor, Apollo and…

Gregor could barely contain his smile at the thought. Things had been… _rough_ … between the two of them, but Gregor was going to have to bite the bullet on this one. He knew that Calvin was counting on him, and now wasn't the time to let any personal grievances get in the way. Besides, there was a certain element of thrill about the whole thing.

Although despair had been the overwhelming sentiment shared by Mr Bennett and him over the last twenty-four hours or so, a new feeling began to burgeon in his chest.

Hope.

* * *

 **If you haven't noticed, the last word of this chapter is meant to be a tribute to Carrie Fisher. I grew up with Star Wars, and even though my love for it has waned, I just thought I'd honour a great actress with this final word. Some of you might get it, others won't.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was quite fun to write. The ending of this chapter is deliberately vague and incoherent to build up some anticipation, but some of you might get it. Essentially, it alludes to the fact that Gregor will be turning to a certain someone to join him on the mission to save Calvin. Do you know who it is? This is my question for this chapter.**

 **Also, if you haven't checked out my Christmas special, do check it out! I don't expect any kind of reviews or reactions, but if you'd like to express your thoughts please feel free to.**

 **The New Year offers us a chance to change and become better people. It might seem insignificant to some, but try to think of it as a fresh start for all of us. Hopefully, 2017 will be a great year for us all. And I do expect this story to be complete by the end of 2017… Maybe even by summer.**

 **I hope to see out this journey with all of you. It's been a privilege, and I'm really looking forward to the future.**

 **For auld lang syne,**

 **Fly you high.**

 **Vengeous**


	28. Chapter 28: A Familiar Grin

**Hi everyone! I'd like to thank those who have reviewed my story over the last week or so: THExPOTxHEAD, Reaper Whisper, JaCrispy (nice to meet you!), Im Blu, Iron Carnotaur, MarbleSky, PincheeX, Clytuis, The Writer of all Mistakes, Koipbuiop, Gyltig, pyro159, inferno746 (nice to meet you too!), DeathDrayanD and BryceSyce (nice to see you again!). You all made a tough week great, and I owe it to your effort.**

 **This chapter reintroduces a character that I personally love. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as I did.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: A Familiar Grin**

Drowned in darkness, resurrected in pain.

Calvin's jaw felt like lead, although it had improved considerably since Snake had broken it. He had no idea how long he had been wallowing in the filthy room, only receiving an occasional bath or dinner to keep him alive.

No, keeping him alive wasn't an act of mercy from Snake. His screams into the perpetual night had resulted in damaged armrests, as Calvin sunk his long nails into the fabric when he could no longer contain his animalistic feelings. Fear was second nature to him- he breathed it in every day, inhaling its toxic fumes, letting it poison his blood and his hope.

His "baths" came when Snake found the cruelty in himself to toss a bucket of cold water onto Calvin. His meals could make flies and rats regurgitate a thousand times over. Living was now a punishment and a test, with Snake testing Calvin's boundaries and waiting for him to crumble at any moment. But Calvin fought on, even if he still struggled to figure out why he still endured.

Fabius' death had broken him back down. Within the timespan of an hour, he had transformed Calvin's apprehension to trust, his cynicism to faith, and his pessimism to hope. He had shattered the shackles of negativity which bound both his mind and his body to the chair. He was back to being the idealistic hero, inspired to inspire and ready to take the world on again.

But a yearning for justice and peace was often punished. Minutes after his faith in humanity had been restored, Snake promptly showed the darker side of it by blowing Fabius' brains out. Fabius, a _fox_ , someone equally hated by his own kind as well as humans, had risked his life so as to provide Calvin with the impetus to break out of his physical and psychological prison.

And Calvin was failing Fabius right now. Trying to force hope back into his mindset was like trying to force bile up his throat. It was revolting to him, especially after what he just witnessed, but it was still necessary. Not that Calvin cared about what was necessary anymore.

The door was swung open with a dramatically loud crash, which was a harmonious melody to his ears. That could mean either a shower while he was conscious, or a chance to tame his growling stomach. He preferred the former, but he had no choice down here. He was going to have to make do with what he had.

But he quickly realised that his predictions were far off the mark. A couple of mercenaries came in and unbuckled his straps, before hauling him to his feet. Calvin, having not used his legs in weeks, collapsed instantly to the floor.

They felt like they were made of jelly, and the very substance seemed to fall apart under his own weight. He wasn't ready to use his legs to keep him upright, having relied on his sense of morality to do that over the last few days. Cursing under his breath, he reached out and felt his ankles.

Numb. They seemed to tingle at the touch, but there wasn't any other response. He tried to lift them, but they refused to listen to him. Snarling in frustration, he grabbed them and shook them violently, trying to get the blood flowing round once more. But it was all to no avail- for now, Calvin was going to have to make do without his legs.

It was as if he was suffering from paraplegia, and although he realised that labelling himself as being paraplegic appeared a little demeaning to people who were actually suffering from such a condition, he couldn't find any other word to describe the state he was in. His legs felt like ice blocks, which was all the more frustrating for someone who prided himself on his physical fitness.

The mercenaries grabbed one arm each and hoisted him up, before dragging him out of the room unceremoniously. It was humiliating and painful, but Calvin was too intrigued and distracted to care. Where were they bringing him and what did they want to do with him?

He soon found himself being heaved towards a humongous cavern. The mercenaries led him to a wooden stand, where a rope hung ominously from the top like a noose.

This was not the death that Calvin had expected.

He would have thrashed or used some fighting technique against them to break out of their grip, but he had no strength left in his limbs, nor did any adrenaline course through his veins to give him the necessary energy to escape. All he could do was helplessly watch on as they propped him up against the wooden stand, before pulling the rope down.

But instead of tying it around his neck, they bound his hands and fastened the knot tight. "There is a guest who wishes to meet you, and everybody is expected to stand upon his arrival," the mercenary said cryptically, before walking off to leave Calvin barely staying on his two feet, especially now that his sense of balance had been lost.

He gazed around the cavern and realised he wasn't the only one here. Its beautiful edges and defined contours had been defiled by the presence of Overlander technology, which stood out like a sore thumb against a backdrop of natural splendour. Stiff-looking mercenaries stood at attention around Calvin, while others stood from a vantage point to view the whole scene beneath them. Calvin almost shivered in disgust and horror as his eyes wandered over to the main section of the cavern, which was teeming with…

Foxes.

Hundreds of them in their recognisable red fur, standing in a rather disorganised formation with the exception of two disciplined lines which left a gap in the middle of the cavern. The two lines stood several feet apart, creating an aisle of sorts which led from the main entrance of the cavern to a small podium where Calvin was at the moment.

The other mercenaries stood on the podium as well, and Calvin's eyes trailed over to one mercenary in particular, who was standing in front of the rest with his head tilted upwards almost in defiance of all the proceedings in front of him. Calvin couldn't see his face, but his commanding presence and posture, as well as his unique physical stature, made his identity unmistakable. There stood the man that Calvin hated the most in the whole world, over or under.

Snake, who seemed to sense Calvin's loathing telepathically, turned around to face Calvin. His stern features broke down to form a smirk, which was all Calvin got from him before he turned back around to face the main entrance to the cavern. Calvin tried weakly to wriggle his hands out of the knot, but he knew that it was futile. Even if he did break free, his legs could barely carry him ten feet.

Suddenly, the foxes began to burst into a peculiar half-bark, half-howl in unison. Their disorganised formation then began to straighten itself to form neat row upon neat row of drilled soldiers, all hollering a battle cry at the top of their lungs. Calvin, both perplexed and fascinated by the performance in front of him, looked up towards the main entrance of the cavern.

Six foxes marched through the entrance first, scanning the area intently and sniffing the air vigorously. They then marched forward quickly, not joining in the rabid noises that their other brethren were producing. They just stood at attention and faced Snake, who seemed to nod his head in greeting.

Then an enormous figure emerged from the entrance of the cave. Gleaming white teeth on the left side of the face revealed a familiar grin, while groomed reddish-brown fur spoke of the king who wore it like royal robes. A polished metal mask prevented Calvin from seeing the features on the right side of his face, but its wordless sneer which complemented its teeth sent shivers down Calvin's spine.

And of course, a single yellow eye that laid bare all the malice, madness and hunger of the being who stood before him. Calvin knew that eye could only belong to one individual in the whole Underland.

Flavius.

Passionate chants of "King Flavius!" broke out in the cavern as the king strode down the aisle confidently, rearing up to full height to exhibit his imposing muscular figure. Calvin lowered his gaze, trying his best not to look at the fox straight in the eye. Every single time their gazes met, Calvin felt violated, as if Flavius had torn down any facade Calvin had put up and was staring straight into his soul.

By now, all the foxes had dropped to their knees and their chants had ceased, but there was a discernible ripple of excitement every time Flavius took a couple of steps forward. To them, he was their hero, their saviour, their _god_. Under his wisdom and guidance, they had been led to the promised land. No matter what he did now was irrelevant. He had redeemed their species by showing courage and valour and honour and sacrifice.

He was their Warrior.

Flavius now leapt onto the podium, nodding and smiling at Snake before walking over to Calvin. "Calvin," he said in that deceptively smooth, velvety voice of his. "It's been a while."

Calvin didn't say anything. He didn't want to have a conversation with this… _monster_.

"I've been looking forward to this," the fox continued with relish. "I don't think we've had the opportunity to have a civil discussion in a long time."

When Calvin didn't respond, Flavius just burst into a menacing chuckle. His laughs echoed through the cavern sinisterly, which was made all the more frightening by the stiff and uneasy silence in the background. None of the other foxes or humans laughed. If anything, they were looking at Calvin with pity.

When Flavius was done, his voice dropped to a terrifying growl as he said, "Leave us."

The foxes piled out of the cavern like rushing water, clearly not ready to incur their king's wrath. They did so quietly, pouncing on top of each other and even injuring each other to get ahead. "Isn't that funny?" Flavius remarked. "It's all a rat race in the end, even though we're schemers."

When no one reacted to the horrible pun, he chuckled ever so slightly, before roaring, "LAUGH!"

The foxes, now completely scared of Flavius, erupted into a cacophony of awkward cackling as they desperately tried to pour out of the cavern. Flavius just smirked at the whole scene and rolled his one eye. "Fools," he said out loud to no one in particular. "Their stupidity will be the end of us."

"That'll… be your fault," Calvin breathed, unable to rein in his words this time.

Flavius turned back to face him. "And why is that the case, _Gunner_?"

Calvin cringed on the inside when he heard Flavius use his Regalian title. But he shrugged off the uneasiness to reply, "You made them stupid… turned them into obedient machines. You've stopped them from learning how to think for themselves."

Flavius grinned. "I've almost forgotten how intelligent you are," he said to Calvin. "We're going to have a _wonderful_ conversation."

He turned back round to face Snake and his mercenaries. "My orders weren't just meant for my schemers. Take your men outside this cavern. I wish to speak to Calvin _alone_."

"We're not going anywhere," Snake insisted bluntly. "He's-"

"I don't care," Flavius said quietly. "I want you all to leave _now_."

His cold demeanour had some of the mercenaries quaking in their boots. Calvin could see the fear written all over their faces, while some were even blatantly trembling right in front of him. Flavius commanded fear unlike Calvin had ever seen before. Even the mercenaries, who had seen some of the worst atrocities committed and feared close to nothing, looked downright horror-stricken by Flavius' presence.

Snake reluctantly lifted his hand and made a gesture signalling for a retreat. The mercenaries gratefully leapt off the podium and shuffled out of the cavern quickly, shamelessly bowing to Flavius out of fear before exiting. Snake, on the other hand, stalked towards the exit, casting one last lingering glance at both Flavius and Calvin before slithering back into the shadows.

Flavius then turned to focus his attention on the sole human in the room. "Now where were we?"

Calvin had the discipline this time to hold his tongue back. His refusal to respond seemed to amuse Flavius, who quickly added, "How's Mr Carter?"

 _Mr Carter._

The name triggered a surge of emotions that engulfed Calvin. Guilt, shame, disappointment, despair, misery… Anger, above all.

"How's your face?" Calvin retorted, no longer able to subdue the growing flames of anger in his chest which Flavius had gleefully stoked.

"Actually, it's doing very well," Flavius responded coolly. "I even hear whispers that it radiates an aura of… _fear._ "

" _Come out boy! I can smell you, and I can smell your fear and anguish."_

Calvin couldn't help but grimace as those lines, like ghosts from the past, seemed to linger on in the air to haunt him. The faintest outline of Vikus' corpse appeared behind Flavius, but quickly vanished into thin air with an eerie howl of the wind. Calvin closed his eyes so that he could be shielded from the horrors realising themselves before his eyes, but the only image he could conjure up in the darkness was that of Mr Carter's corpse.

Flavius' voice cut through like a knife sliding through a chink in Calvin's armour. "Sending Mr Carter to the hospital seems so useless now, doesn't it?" he said as his voice softened to a whisper. "You could have spared him so much suffering, but you chose to be a hero. You thought that you had given him his life back. Where's Mr Carter now? Alive? Next to you?"

"Shut up," Calvin growled.

"Funny," Flavius almost seemed to giggle. "You kept him alive to lead him to his death anyway. Isn't that poetic? Through all your mourning, didn't you realise that you were just as important in sending him to the grave as Snake was?"

"Don't you dare," Calvin said, his voice trembling from sheer fury. "I'll rip your guts out."

Deep down underneath his mask of anger lay an admission of guilt. Calvin's stubborn dedication to his flawed principle of not killing anyone had resulted in Mr Carter's death. When Mr Carter hesitated to pull the trigger, Calvin had inadvertently triggered a whole series of events- Mr Carter's death, his torture at the hands of Snake and the devastating psychological blow when Snake told him that he was his father all along.

And yet it had also given Calvin a chance to realise that he had a huge role to play in giving the Underland hope against those who threatened to ravage every last inch of it. His conversation with Fabius had…

Wait, Fabius.

He was the key right now.

"Rip my guts out?" Flavius' rich, silky baritone voice interrupted his thought flow once more. "You can barely stand upright, Gunner. Don't make empty threats, because that is as insulting to me as someone spitting in my face."

The fox haughtily swivelled around and slowly paced about the cavern, observing its design wordlessly. Calvin noticed how he seemed to recoil every time he neared a piece of Overlander technology, almost as if those objects sickened him. He appeared to have grown accustomed to the metal mask on his face, and occasionally brought his claw up to brush it endearingly. He wasn't lying when he said it had added to the fear factor.

This was the moment to catch him off-guard. "Perhaps more people should spit in your face," Calvin said. "Perhaps someone like Fabius?"

The king of the foxes suddenly halted in his tracks, evidently stunned by Calvin's small revelation. "Snake let you speak to him?" he asked.

"Yes," Calvin said quickly, intent on sowing the seeds of mistrust and anger within Flavius. A game of chess required two players, but Flavius didn't seem to be aware that he had an opponent in this game. Calvin could make some subtle moves which went undetected by one of the smartest individuals in the Underland.

Flavius spun around to face Calvin, his eyes dangerously alight with what looked like irritation, perhaps even anger. "Where is Fabius now?"

"Dead," Calvin answered truthfully. "Snake killed him."

"Good," Flavius snarled. "I was beginning to think that I was going to have to kill the weakling myself."

"Fabius was no weakling!" Calvin barked at Flavius. "You know that."

"I know he was a fool," Flavius growled. "He had a chance to rule the Underland with me, but chose to give it up out of some… pretentious sense of self-dignity."

"He opposed you to remind you of your purpose," Calvin told Flavius. "You were supposed to protect the schemers."

"I AM!" Flavius roared at Calvin. "I protect them by destroying you all, so that Regalia cannot do what Sandwich did to us all those years ago!"

"I know you want peace," Calvin reasoned with Flavius. "But war isn't the only way to achieve peace!"

"It is," Flavius said harshly, letting slip the slightest hint of emotion into his voice. "Only when there is no dissent or opposition can there be peace. And Regalia, my dear Gunner, is opposition to us."

"It's not," Calvin insisted. "They'll leave you alone if you leave them alone."

"Do you truly believe that?" Flavius scoffed. "Naive child… Look around you. What did the Underland do to the Overland to warrant an invasion? Yet the Overlanders have come to slaughter them all. Calvin, the world is too small for too many superpowers to exist. I'm merely pushing forward an inevitable war so my people have no need to suffer in the future."

The fox then pounced on Calvin's hesitation and went on, "That's nature, boy. In the end, superpowers turn to conquest in order to sustain themselves as a growing population and economy. I thought the Overland would have taught you that."

"It taught me that those who abuse their power eventually fall," Calvin shot back.

"All of us fall eventually," Flavius said philosophically. "No one stays in the light forever. As soon as you realise that, you'll find your place next to me as a ruler of the Underland. My foxes will worship you like a god. You'll be able to reign in peace alongside me. We'll crush Operation Claw together and I'll even give you the chance to kill Snake yourself. For that is what you want, is it not?"

"I don't want to kill Snake," Calvin replied resolutely. "I don't want to kill anyone."

Flavius tsk-tsked in disapproval. "It's such a waste, you know. A bright mind like yours has been snuffed out by your misguided principles of valour and honour. I don't want to fight you, Calvin. I'd hate to kill someone as talented or intelligent as you. On the contrary, I want intelligent people at my side to serve as advisors. Believe me, I will reward you for your obedience and counsel."

"I'd gladly do that for you," Calvin said honestly, "if you ended the war with the rest of the Underland."

Flavius' tail flicked upwards in annoyance. "You don't quite have a nuanced view of the world, do you? Peace is the goal, war is the means to achieving that goal. You can only have peace when a single faction is governed by one at the very top. Only then can you have no conflicts of interest, no corruption, no betrayals or backstabbing. It's a beautiful destination with an ugly route, but a route we must traverse nonetheless."

"We want the same thing," Calvin pointed out. "We both want peace. But you see only one way to get there."

"Because there is only one way!" Flavius exclaimed in frustration.

"No, there isn't," Calvin replied. "I know there's good in you, Flavius. Fabius told me about your past. We're very alike, you and I. I lost my parents too when I was a kid."

Whatever flickering flame of goodness that still resided in Flavius' soul seemed to fade away at the mention of his parents. "No, we're very different," Flavius snarled. "My parents died even though I had the power to save them. Losing them taught me that those without power cannot protect those they love. Without power, I cannot protect my species."

"But use that power for good," Calvin encouraged him. "Use your power to work out a peace treaty with Regalia."

Flavius reared back and burst into a baleful chortle. "You have a silver tongue, Gunner," he remarked. "You almost had me convinced that we wanted the same thing. But I now know that we don't. I want control, Gunner, control over ALL proceedings. I want power. Peace is merely a by-product of that power."

"Then Fabius is right," Calvin said sadly. "You have been corrupted by the power bestowed on you."

"Power will corrupt anyone," Flavius replied. "Queen Luxa, Ripred, the Warrior… They all possess power beyond measure. Do you think it hasn't corrupted them? Do you think it hasn't seeped into their veins and wrapped its fingers around their heart? The difference between me and them is that I will actually achieve peace when I claim that power. They won't."

"What would your parents say if they saw you like this," Calvin was flailing wildly now. "What would they think of their son?"

"They'd be proud of me," Flavius replied with a sneer. "They'd be proud to see their son honouring their legacy and taking control of a kingdom that needed a true leader. We're united now, Calvin. Can you say the same for the rest of the Underland?"

Calvin flinched on the inside. Flavius was right- the rest of the Underland was always going to war against each other over trivial matters, meaning they could almost never set up a united front against its one existential threat- Operation Claw. Even the schemers were so blinded by success and vengeance to see that their allies were just waiting for the opportune moment to strike them down from behind.

"Fabius said there's still good in you," Calvin said weakly.

Flavius turned around and shoved his face right into Calvin's. His breath reeked of rotting flesh stuck between his teeth and rusting metal, causing Calvin to close his eyes and lean away as far as possible. "Look into my eye, Calvin," Flavius growled, "and tell me if there's any good left in it."

Calvin opened his eyes and gazed into Flavius' soulless solitary eye, this time desperately scouring every corner for a glimpse of morality or kindness in the fox. But as he searched deeper and deeper for the goodness in Flavius, all he found was more darkness, greed, hunger, hatred and…

Pain.

The one side of him that he never showed anyone. Calvin had seen him in physical pain before, when he had put a couple of bullets into his jaw, but apart from that he had never see Flavius as emotionally vulnerable as this. "My god," Calvin breathed. "What happened to you?"

"I grew up," Flavius replied curtly. He then explain, "I let the pain and tragedy behind because those are weaknesses. Malice is often viewed as a trait of evil, but I beg to differ. It helps to build a facade and makes sure that you do what is necessary. It doesn't soften you to sentiment, which is what generosity and pity does."

Calvin sighed and shook his head. That was as harrowing an experience as it got. For when he stared at Flavius' pain, an air of familiarity suddenly encased him, transporting him back a couple of months ago, when he was chest-deep in guilt for killing Vikus. He remembered staring into the mirror one night for no apparent reason. The pain and guilt which registered on his face was the same pain and guilt he saw in Flavius' eyes.

But the emotional vulnerability that Flavius exposed to him was quickly retracted as the fox backed away. "I have found a way to redeem myself for my failure," he said softly. "Killing Fabius and his delusional conspirators helped to axe away that last link of pain I had to my past. There's no going back now. I will take the whole Underland for myself, and then I will destroy Operation Claw before they can backstab us first."

The fox then reared up to full height, displaying the confidence and swagger that Calvin had seen in him when he had entered the cavern with hundreds of foxes hollering excitedly. Flavius had been forced to mould his own character to fit the narrative of his people. He needed to become a mythological hero, one mentioned amongst the likes of gods and saviours, so he adjusted his public persona according to that need. Everything was to be exaggerated and extravagant in order to convey his superiority.

But in the end, it was all just a performance with Flavius wearing a mask as the main character. His soul was lost and he only possessed a voided well for a conscience. All there was for him in the past was pain. And he had become so engrossed in the performance that he didn't even realise it was a performance anymore. In his own mind, he probably thought of himself as some kind of god.

Flavius would crush anybody in his path, or anybody who threatened to undermine the narrative that he was some kind of divine being. That was probably why any opposition to his rule was silenced quickly, even when that opposition came from a cousin who had been one of his best friends.

Calvin couldn't believe that he was actually trying to seek out the goodness in Flavius. This was a fox who had ruined his idealistic view of the world and had challenged his faith in people. This was a fox who had killed so many of his friends and had tried to raze a city he had fallen in love with to the ground. This was a fox who was the very antithesis of the person Calvin always wanted to be. And yet after all this, Calvin still tried to convince him to find goodness in his heart.

Perhaps Calvin was naive after all. Flavius, the redeemer of all other foxes, was beyond redemption.

Flavius, strutting around the cavern once more, suddenly called out, "How's Hero?"

 _Hero_.

Calvin had almost forgotten about her, which sent tremors of guilt rumbling down his body. He remembered the childish infatuation and obsession with her, which had gradually matured and morphed into love and friendship. Calvin would be lying if he said he didn't have feelings for her anymore, even after dating Samantha back in the Overland.

Hero had pursued a relationship with Calvin, but Calvin had essentially dumped her knowing that their relationship was impossible. But was it really impossible, or was Calvin just scared and unprepared for the future?

"I remember her, you know," Flavius recalled. "I remember the scent of love between the two of you that I detected on the boat. She's the reason you were able to hurt me, remember? She threw the gun to you after killing Cassandra."

"What do you want?" Calvin snarled.

"I'm going to kill her," Flavius said with a smug grin. "I'm going to tear out her guts and rip off her head, and I'm going to do that all in front of you. I'm going to show you what it felt like when I watched my parents die. You're going to know the pain of losing someone you care about even when you had the power to save them."

This was the Flavius he knew- merciless, twisted, brutal and a complete maniac.

This was the Flavius Calvin had grown to abhor.

"You're sick," Calvin spat at him.

Flavius grinned. "Perhaps I am. It doesn't matter to me. I'm going to destroy Hero in front of you anyway, Gunner. And when that happens, let's see if you and your merry bunch of Regalians will still adore the notion of hope."

Calvin now literally spat at Flavius, with the spittle landing at Flavius' feet. "Uncouth," Flavius commented, unable to resist a little dig at Calvin. "Now who's really the savage one?"

"The Regalians will come here," Calvin said to him. "They'll come here and destroy all of you."

"They will try," Flavius replied calmly. "But in a game of chess, you always need to be several steps ahead. Snake thinks that the Overlander mercenaries he left behind are sufficient to kill the Warrior. But I know better. Snake has grossly misunderstood and underestimated the Warrior."

Flavius allowed himself to chuckle, before continuing, "I anticipated the Warrior's impending arrival a while ago. I'm guessing he's gone to fetch his flier and Ripred, with those three coming here to rescue you. So when they come for you, and they _will_ come for you. I'll be waiting for them. No doubt you thought you were clever by leaving a trail of breadcrumbs here, but all you've done is lead them to your death."

How did Flavius know all of this?

As if on cue, Flavius said, "I've played the game long enough, Gunner. You and the Warrior are amateurs to me. Only when I've killed all your friends in front of you, then I will leave you alone to rot in a prison for the rest of your miserable life. Snake wants information from you to attack Regalia, but I see no need to get the information from you. Regalia will come to us through the Warrior and Ripred, and it will be vanquished when the both of them are dead."

As Flavius turned tail to stride out of the cavern, Calvin bowed his head in despair.

What had he done?

* * *

 **So there's chapter 28! Flavius reveals a slightly more sentimental side to him in this chapter, but it disappears as quickly as it appears. It's gonna be really action-packed soon, because the two sub-plots will end up converging. Gregor's coming for Calvin, meaning that we'll have a much more linear story soon.**

 **And yes, the next chapter will be from Gregor's perspective as he goes to rescue Calvin. This story's heating up, and we're not even at the final act yet!**

 **Favourites/Follows are recommended, and please review my story if you can!**

 **Question: Do you think Flavius is beyond redemption, or do you think there's still good in him? And what do you think of his concept of peace- that peace cannot be achieved without war? Let me know in your reviews!**


	29. Chapter 29: Covert Mission

**Hello everyone! Guess it's been a tough and busy week for many of you cos' the reviews have dwindled. Nonetheless, thanks to the following people for reviewing my story: Im Blu, Reaper Whisper, BryceSyce, TheGreatAthlon5, Koipbuiop, PincheeX, Iron Carnotaur, a guest reader, Gyltig, DeathDrayanD, MarbleSky and pyro159.**

 **It's been a rough week for me emotionally. Had issues in the romantic department. Hope it didn't affect my writing too much. Please continue to offer your support if you can. I'd really appreciate it.**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Covert Mission**

"We're near," Gregor observed.

"How do you know that?" Apollo asked, hopping towards Gregor and leaning over to take a look at the tracker.

"We can see ourselves on this," Gregor replied, pointing at a blinking green dot which as just mere centimetres away from the red one. Gregor wished to heaven that he was centimetres away from Calvin's location, but an optimistic estimate would put him kilometres away. If not for Apollo's wings they would have been grounded in despair, left to wander around aimlessly in unfriendly and treacherous territory.

The land was as barren of life as it was of hope. Sharp, jagged rocks lined the ground with hostility, meant to harm feet instead of providing a platform to walk. Gregor could vaguely hear the roar of a red queen in the distance, churning forth frothy lava to incinerate any travellers in its path.

There was an obvious reason why this place was unchartered.

"How long more do you need to rest?" Gregor asked Apollo.

"I haven't flown in a while," Apollo replied, gingerly stretching his wings and giving his head a little shake. "So to carry the two of you is quite a struggle."

"I think we still have time," Gregor reassured him. "You wanna go for a practice flight? Might give you some time to work your flying out."

"No harm, I guess," Apollo shrugged, before taking off into the air.

Gregor watched as the black figure of his friend slowly disappear into the distance. If Apollo died on this mission, Gregor would have failed not just Apollo and himself, but Ares as well. Ares' sacrificial death was a lesson conjured by fate to teach Gregor that his actions and decisions had consequences. Many of those Gregor loved had perished or suffered because of his carelessness. Gregor had only begun to grasp that lately, but better late than never. He hadn't lost everyone yet.

"What's your plan?"

Gregor turned around to face Ripred and replied, "I don't really have one."

The rat, lounging against the tunnel wall, just rolled his solitary eye. "Of course you don't."

"Do you have one?" Gregor challenged Ripred.

"No," the rat admitted.

Gregor was given a crash course by Mr Bennett in how to use the tracking device, before he headed back down to the Underland. It didn't take him long to find Ripred and convince the old rat to follow him. He didn't want to tell Luxa about this covert mission, for fear that she would talk him into staying back instead. He wanted this to be a quiet affair, with as little as people as possible being involved.

He did, however, inform Hazard about his plan to rescue Calvin. He put the kid in charge of keeping things quiet about their decision to leave, which included bribing some of the guards at the wall. If news leaked out that both the Warrior and the Peacemaker were gone, the rebel gnawers could strike while the iron was hot and sow discord in the city, which was already in a chaotic state as things stood.

Ripred had been uncharacteristically quiet on their journey thus far, perhaps because he didn't want to distract Apollo, who had already been put under heavy strain from the combined weight of both the one-eyed rat and Gregor.

And of course, his relationship with Gregor was… Complicated, to say the least.

Every single time Gregor looked at Ripred, guilt became a rock which weighed down his heart. In the warped way the world worked, Gregor actually hoped that Ripred wouldn't forgive him, and that he would have to get onto his knees and beg for Ripred's forgiveness. That act would at least absolve some of the guilt, but the fact that RIpred had brushed the matter off so easily had broken Gregor on the inside.

After everything he had done to Ripred, after all the hatred he had physically inflicted on the old rat… Ripred had somehow found enough kindness in his heart to make Gregor feel worse by forgiving him. Who knows, perhaps Ripred had deliberately chosen to forgive Gregor just to make him feel awful.

Gregor recalled how close he was to plunging that sword down. More importantly, he remembered how close he was to becoming someone like Flavius. There was an almost indiscernible streak of malice and ruthlessness that had driven Gregor to the edge of his sanity, but it had been there nonetheless, egging him on to kill Ripred and punish the old rat for all the pain Gregor had suffered.

Again, it was all about control. Gregor had lost control of his emotions and in turn, lost control of his rager abilities. His rager abilities were supposed to help him, but he was starting to realise his body was merely a vehicle for his rager abilities to take control of. It was almost as if it had conceived a mind of its own, always trying to force its way up into Gregor's mind and assume complete control to dictate each and every action Gregor took.

Every physical scar or wound Ripred bore had an emotional replica staining Gregor's conscience. The immense amount of shame and disgrace for what he had done to Ripred followed him into bed when he slept, and rose together with him when he woke up. It was a horrifying reminder of the person Gregor could have become had it not been for an ironic last-minute intervention by fate.

"How's your eye?" Gregor asked abruptly.

"Which one are you referring to?" Ripred replied with his trademark sarcastic edge. "The blind one or the one that can see you right now?"

Ripred really knew how to invoke remorse and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Ripred," Gregor said as genuinely as he possibly could.

"Apology accepted," he replied curtly.

"No, I'm serious," Gregor said earnestly.

Ripred's sole eye shifted upwards to stare straight at Gregor. "So am I."

Ripred was clearly uncomfortable discussing this topic, but his distant reticence on the subject was frustrating Gregor as well. Gregor wanted to hear his thoughts out completely.

"Why?" Gregor asked him. "Why do you accept my apology?"

Ripred sighed out loud, before saying, "Does it benefit either of us if I don't forgive you?"

"I guess not," Gregor replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… But it just doesn't seem like you."

Ripred snorted. "Believe me, boy, I'm always the one doing the forgiving."

"I don't know why I did what I did," Gregor said, embarking on what felt like a quasi-monologue. "I just felt angry and betrayed, so I just wanted to kill you."

"I warned you all those years ago," Ripred interrupted him. "It's a lot easier to lose your head than to keep it."

"You should have just told me the truth," Gregor said, shaking his head. "I was wrong to fight you, but you should have told me what you wanted from me. It broke my heart when I found out you went behind my back to break me and Luxa up."

"Are you seeking an apology from me, Overlander?" Ripred asked.

"No," Gregor replied. "I just want to understand why you did what you did."

"You know very well why I did it," Ripred said, sounding like he was bordering on frustration. "Luxa inherited softness from her grandfather and stubbornness from her grandmother. It makes for a terrible leader."

"She wasn't soft," Gregor said defensively. "Conrad left her with all the dirty work. She was far too overwhelmed by it."

"Precisely," Ripred replied. "She was far too overwhelmed to be a good leader for her people."

"You still believe you're in the right, don't you?" Gregor asked, surprised by the amount of bitterness he felt in his tone.

Ripred seemed to grimace slightly, but the grimace slowly morphed into an expression of resolute fury. Ripred took this matter to heart, and he was clearly very unhappy with the state of affairs back in Regalia. "I was never wrong, Overlander. Perhaps I was foolish to try and engineer a conflict behind your back, but I was never wrong."

"How can we fight together if I can't even trust you?" Gregor asked him.

Ripred almost smirked. "Do you really think I'll let our disagreement affect this mission?"

"I don't know," Gregor answered. "You still surprise me, even after all these years."

"Well," Ripred growled, "one thing you SHOULD know about me is that I do what is necessary. If it means we have to set our differences aside to fight together, I'd do it in the blink of an eye. Would you do the same?"

"Probably," Gregor responded.

"Then we understand each other," Ripred concluded, leaning back against the wall and closing his eye.

"Will you still be able to fight with one eye missing?" Gregor asked, unsure how to phrase his sentence to make the question more appropriate.

"I didn't lose my brain, Overlander," Ripred replied sarcastically. "Of course I can still fight. The question you should be asking is whether I can still fight like I used to."

"Can you still fight like you used to?" Gregor asked promptly.

"I don't think so," Ripred replied. "I seem to have lost my sense of… _perspective._ "

Ripred had deliberately laced his answer with even more bitterness by refusing to say that he had lost his sense of sight. He may have lost many strengths he once had, but his caustic wit wasn't one of them.

"Stick close to me," Gregor told him. "If you stray too far I can't cover you."

"Oh please," Ripred rolled his eye. "You don't have to babysit me, Overlander."

"Judging by your behaviour, I'm not so sure about that," Gregor jibed playfully at Ripred, trying to defuse the sky-high tension.

"Hilarious," Ripred said, before sardonically faking a laugh that sounded more like a cough.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Gregor grumbled, a little fed up by Ripred's snide attitude.

"Only idiots who don't know how to use it say that," Ripred fired back derisively.

Gregor raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. Then, out of the blue, a memory floated by.

"There was a guy in my school," Gregor recalled. "The one in Virginia. His name was Ray, and-"

"I don't care," Ripred interrupted, throwing his paw in the air to wave Gregor's recount away dismissively.

"His name was Ray," Gregor persisted, "and he was the most sarcastic son of a bitch I'd ever come across."

"Really now?" Ripred's ears literally perked up. "I'm calling bullshit, but you have my attention."

"He was ignored by everybody else," Gregor said. "Nobody really found him funny or witty. All that sarcasm ended up making him look like a complete jerk. I thought he had put in a whole lot of effort for nothing."

"That was… anticlimactic," Ripred said scornfully.

"I wasn't done," Gregor replied. "It wasn't till months later, when I was talking to one of his friends, that I realised why Ray was so sarcastic. He was trying to use the sarcasm to mask the pain he had back home- the pain of having divorced parents, one a drug addict and the other declared mentally unsound."

Ripred's expression suddenly became more solemn. "We all wear masks," was all the old rat offered in response.

The delicate silence was shattered abruptly by the beating of wings, as Apollo landed next to the two of them. He was panting heavily, and Gregor couldn't help but notice how the large beads of sweat that clung to his fur. "What happened?" Gregor asked him, jumping to his feet instantly.

Apollo did his utmost to catch his breath, before replying, "I found… I found the base. It's… ten minutes from here."

"You saw it from a distance?" Gregor asked.

"Yes," Apollo nodded his head. "It's inside a cave. There are tunnels on the east side that look unguarded. We… We could sneak in from there."

"No," Ripred replied bluntly.

"No?" Gregor and Apollo both questioned simultaneously.

"Of course not," the rat snarled. "It's a trap set up by Flavius. He knows we'd coming for Calvin eventually. He's been ahead of us this whole time."

"How would Flavius know that?" Gregor asked.

"If he has Calvin down there, he's using Calvin as bait," Ripred said. "We can't fall for any bait he offers us. The best way is to try and find the area which we can handle and penetrate the base from there."

"But what if all the other areas are heavily guarded?" Apollo asked.

"Then we have to fight our way through it," Ripred said grimly. "We have no choice. If we take the eastern tunnels, I'm positively sure it's a trap."

"How many do you think can we take on?" Gregor asked Ripred.

"If we were both healthy I'd say at least a hundred," the old rat replied. "But seeing how the both of us beat each other to a pulp, my numbers wouldn't be so optimistic."

"I can chip in," Apollo said. "I won't help much, but I can kill some of them."

"No, stay out of the fight," Gregor instructed him. "If one of us can find Calvin and get away, you need to be there to fly us back."

"I didn't come here to cower, Warrior," Apollo said firmly.

"I know," Gregor said. "You've done more than I could ever ask of you by coming on this trip. You're no coward, Apollo, but we need you to be alive. Your job is to drop us off and then fly us out of here in case we can escape."

Apollo looked reluctant to agree, but he nodded his head slowly. "It will be as you said, Warrior," he responded.

Gregor turned to face Ripred. "You ready?"

Ripred sighed. "I can't really say no, can I?"

Gregor afforded himself a half-smile, before climbing onto Apollo's moist fur. Ripred, inhaling a deep breath, leapt onto Apollo's back as well, invoking a grunt from the bat. "Maybe I should have left you back in Regalia," Gregor quipped to Ripred. "Your weight is going get all three of us killed."

"I could say the same for your mouth," Ripred fired back, as Apollo launched himself upwards and soared through the air like a rocket.

Within five minutes, Apollo was flying through a set of winding tunnels. And when they emerged from the tunnels, Gregor found himself gulping in absolute shock.

Apollo hovered behind a stalactite as Gregor looked down below. It was a colossal cavern, titanic enough to fit the whole city of Regalia. Gregor could see a sea of reddish-brown below, moving wave after wave all over the place. A mammoth military base shaped as a pentagon roared out its presence in the middle of the cavern, looking like a hybrid of modern and ancient architecture with its mechanical grey colour and Renaissance-style arches. The view was utterly stupendous.

"Oh my god," Gregor breathed. "This place is teeming with foxes."

He looked down at the tracker. Their blinking green dot had still not quite converged with the red dot. "He's not in that building," he said to Apollo. "Is there anywhere else he could be imprisoned around here?"

"I think some of these tunnels will lead us to another cavern," Apollo said, gesturing with his head at a couple of narrow tunnels. "But I can't fly through those. My wingspan is too long to fit through them."

"Just drop us off at the entrance," Gregor told Apollo. "Then hang about, but remember to stay out of sight. When you hear three whistles…"

"I'll be listening, Warrior," Apollo assured him.

Apollo flew over to the entrance to the tunnels, allowing Gregor to hop off with ease while Ripred had to put in considerably more effort to propel himself off Apollo's back to land at the entrance. Stifling a laugh, Gregor turned to Apollo and said softly, "Thanks Apollo. If I don't make it out of here, I want you to know it was my greatest honour fighting alongside you."

"You'll make it out alive, Warrior," Apollo replied. "I know it. Fly you high. And Lord Ripred, run like the river."

"Fly you high," Ripred replied.

Apollo then left them to the mercy of the menacing darkness as sinister laughs seemed to echo throughout the tunnel ominously. "I'm not getting a good vibe," Gregor said, fitting his black mask on properly.

"Always one for dramatics, eh?" Ripred remarked, before strolling down the tunnel.

The two of them continued down the winding throat of hell slowly but surely. Gregor's rager senses were at their peak right now, ready for a surprise assault at any moment. He could see Ripred's muscles beginning to tense up as well, an indication of how consumed he was by his rager senses.

Light began to pierce through the darkness, highlighting the edges and curves of Gregor's armour and also shedding the darkness that concealed Ripred's remaining eye. The lights suggested that they were close to Overlander technology, which must have meant that they were going to exit the tunnel soon.

Then two foxes walked round the corner.

Within seconds, Gregor had swung his sword and sliced the throat of the fox on the right, while Ripred had shredded the throat of the fox on the left with both sets of claws. Soft gurgling could only be heard, followed by a light thud. "We're near," Ripred said, gingerly stepping over their bodies and walking towards the exit of the tunnel.

They emerged out of the exit and found themselves right in front of at least a hundred schemers.

"Hello!" Ripred greeted them cheerfully as they gaped at Gregor and Ripred in shock.

Gregor wasted no time on a conversation. He drove his blade between the eyes of a fox standing on his right, killing it instantly. He then pulled it out and parried an attack from the fox on his left, before jabbing it in the shoulder with his dagger. He proceeded to finish the fox off by slashing its throat, causing blood to spurt out and drench him in dark red.

Three foxes recovered from the surprise entrance and barreled towards Gregor. He took a couple of steps back to imply a retreat, but suddenly rushed forward to intercept their attack. He caught the fox in the middle by surprise, slamming into it and bringing it down. He then lifted his sword up and swung downwards, but he missed and only took the right ear off. He hacked his blade downwards a second time, on this occasion hitting the target and breaking its jaw. He stabbed down one final time, ending its miserable life the moment his blade pierced its heart.

But he had wasted too much time taking this fox down. The fox on the left rushed at him and a phenomenal rager reflex prevented him from dying, as he brought up his dagger to block its swing. He swung his right sword and severed its limb, eliciting a scream of pure horror from it. He was seconds away from stabbing its throat when he had to turn to his right, this time using his sword to parry an attack from yet another fox.

A whole swarm suddenly charged forward and crashed into him, knocking him over and sending him rolling. Amongst the snapping of teeth and swinging of claws, Gregor relied on his rager senses to protect him, parrying and blocking all kinds of attacks which were thrown at him. He quickly forced himself to recover and stumbled to his feet, kneeing one fox in the jaw as it lunged for his hip.

Another lashed out for his right foot, but he managed to spring out of the way, before ruthlessly plunging his sword down and impaling its brain. A fox sprang forward towards his left side, but he delivered a swift and deadly stroke with his dagger, striking the fox's snout and sending it reeling.

Yet another fox ran straight at him, forcing him to backpedal a bit as he furiously reacted to the fox's attack, swinging his sword and dagger all over the place to block every slash by the fox. He was biding his time for the moment to strike, as he sat back and defended against its ferocious lunges and swipes at him.

Finally, the fox's unrelenting attacks faltered slightly, giving Gregor the chance he was waiting for. He leapt up into the air and fired a kick at its face, sending it flying back and crashing into some of its comrades. But no sooner had Gregor created space for himself than he was suddenly mobbed by a whole lot of them. They piled on top of him and started trying to tear their claws into him. Most of their attacks ended up scratching his armour but not penetrating it.

He fired an elbow to his right, hearing a sickening crack as it connected with the skull of a fox. He then fired multiple punches at the throat of a fox which was pinning his left arm down, causing it to gag and stumble backwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a fox leaping through the air at him, its claws extended and its jaw wide open.

He reacted quickly, throwing his dagger at it. The dagger embedded itself between the fox's eyes, killing it right away. Its body landed on some of its colleagues, pinning them down just before they were about to make a renewed assault.

Gregor picked up his sword and parried an attack made by a fox, before he rammed his blade into its throat. He was showered in fox blood and bits of fur and flesh, making him seem more of a corpse than a living man. But he shrugged off the rancid stench and vomit-inducing images to fight on, this time diving between the legs of a fox and sticking his blade upwards, opening up a huge gash on it underbelly. He winced as he got to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he had just disemboweled it.

On complete impulse, he suddenly raised his blade behind him and felt his arm shudder as his blade was struck with force.

The sound of claw against metal rang out through the cavern.

Gregor spun around and found that his blade had just blocked a fox from striking him down from behind. The fox had a look of complete shock on its face, and it wasn't hard to understand why. Gregor should have been dead. That strike from the fox would have broken his neck.

But he had somehow, _somehow_ , found a way to miraculously block the strike without ever seeing it coming.

Other foxes looking on seemed dumbfounded as well. That was supposed to be the killing blow- the blow to all but end the Underland's hopes of surviving against a combined assault of Overlander mercenaries and foxes. But here he was, with his sword holding the claw at bay determinedly, as if the blade had a will of its own.

Gregor reacted faster than the fox. He sprang into the air and landed onto its back, capitalising on its despair and surprise. He stabbed his blade downwards, emphatically driving his blade right through the brain of the fox. The fox's body lulled forward and then sank to the ground, with Gregor maintaining his balance and standing right above it.

If there was ever an image that was demoralising to the foxes, it was this. Their brain was just as addled by indoctrinated obedience to Flavius as it was overpowered by fear of the Warrior. It ended up being meaningless, and Gregor taking down the fox by stabbing its brain symbolised that fall. The foxes had no chance against Gregor, even with all their intellect. That was how Gregor saw it, at least.

He leapt off the dead fox's back and advanced towards them, causing them to retreat rapidly away from him. One daring fox launched an ill-advised attack, diving for his feet before using the momentum to leapt upwards. But Gregor had seen it coming from a mile away, and he reacted by sidestepping the attack before calmly slitting its throat.

"GREGOR!" a guttural growl echoed throughout the cavern.

Gregor glanced in Ripred's direction, and couldn't help but gulp. His former mentor was struggling against a dozen foxes, just about fending them off. He was focussing so much on self-preservation that he was barely killing any of them. One fox lunged forward and nearly sank its teeth into the old rat's head, but Ripred quickly ducked underneath the lunge to avoid the fox's jaws.

Gregor barreled forward and killed the sprawling fox, bringing his blade down at splitting its skull open. He caught sight of his dagger still embedded in between the eyes of a dead fox, and quickly yanked it out to make sure he was well-equipped to deal with any assault. Meanwhile, the other foxes had begun to focus their attention solely on Ripred, having realised the futility of trying to kill Gregor.

The old rat dashed away from them and ran towards Gregor. The foxes quickly followed behind, snapping at his heels hungrily in an attempt to incapacitate him. But they quickly halted their assault as soon as it became abundantly clear that they were going to have to fight Gregor to get to Ripred. The old rat managed to get to Gregor and stood to his right, panting away heavily.

"I thought you could handle them," Gregor said.

"I'm old," Rirped said, still breathing heavily. "I'm not who I used to be."

"We still haven't met any mercenaries yet," Gregor said anxiously. "If we do, we could be in some trouble."

He stared ahead at the dozens of foxes who seemed happy to partake in a standoff. They had lost almost a third of their original number, but still had enough numbers to kill both Gregor and Ripred off. "They're stalling us," Ripred told Gregor. "They're trying to delay us so backup can come."

"We're gonna have to find another way of getting past them," Gregor murmured out loud, and then an idea struck him.

"I'll ride on you," Gregor suggested. "We just force our way towards the entrance on that side of the cavern, and we run as fast as we can till we find Calvin."

Ripred stared at Gregor in disbelief. "Ride on… me?"

"Yes," Gregor said firmly. "Don't argue with me on this one, I know what I'm doing."

"No," Ripred replied, sounding more horrified by the prospect of being ridden on than taking down almost seventy foxes. "I forbid you from- wait, get off me, I said GET OFF-"

Gregor ignored Ripred's protests and leapt onto the old rat's back. "Trust me," Gregor pleaded with him.

The old rat let out an exasperated sigh of pain. "You owe me one for this," was all he said in response.

"Let's get 'em," Gregor said as his rager senses started its ascendancy once more.

Ripred charged towards the foxes and plowed right through them, knocking some of them down in the process. Gregor swung his blade, delivering fatal strikes to any fox that threatened to knock him or Ripred over. The rat couldn't resist from lashing out with a swipe or two once in a while, injuring them and even landing a couple of killing blows as they just ran right through the pack of them.

They broke past the horde of foxes and Ripred broke into a sprint down a series of tunnels. Gregor made a face as the rat's fur quickly moistened from the amount of sweat that was being churned out, but he took in a deep breath and braced himself for any more attacks.

"Use your echolocation!" Ripred grunted as there was a noticeable dip in his pace.

Gregor clicked his tongue furiously, trying to pick up on any anomalies or obstacles that would come into view as they ran down the tunnels. All he was getting was the sheer number of foxes chasing them down behind, but he was sure that there were others waiting ahead. "They're gaining on us!" he told Ripred.

"Then do something about it!" Ripred snapped back.

Gregor looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel as yet another idea sprang to mind. Gritting his teeth together, he stretched out his sword and hammered at the stalactites above, doing his utmost to dislodge them. At first it was proving to be ineffectual, with the foxes being hindered by a second or two at most.

But more and more rocks began to rain down from the ceiling and disturb their assault as Gregor continued to swing hard at the ceiling. He didn't expect to bring the whole thing down, but it might just do enough to keep them off Ripred's heels for a little while longer. And then, while he was still in the midst of clicking, he detected three objects around the corner. "Take a sharp right!" he yelled at Ripred.

Ripred banked to the right as three huge foxes came into view. Only one of them was within range of Gregor's weapon, and Gregor promptly took him out with a solid swipe of his left dagger, elegantly slitting the fox's throat. The other two took a second too long to react, and by then Gregor and Ripred were pulling ahead.

Gregor heaved a euphoric sigh of relief. If not for his echolocation, both he and Ripred might have been skewered by those foxes.

They raced through more winding tunnels and finally emerged into a cavern. Gregor's eyes instantly settled on a wooden stand, where a noose dangled ominously in front of them. "Oh no," he breathed.

Ripred suddenly tilted his snout upwards. "I've got Calvin's scent!" he said, turning towards a dark corridor.

Two foxes walked out of the corridor and gazed straight at Gregor and Ripred. It only took a moment for them to process the realisation that Gregor and Ripred were standing right in front of them. Hollering a battle cry, they charged forward. Ripred unleashed his own battle cry and broke into a sprint towards them.

Gregor felt his blood flowing faster and faster as the distance between Riped and the foxes was slowly whittled down to a few metres. On the contrary, time began to slow down as Gregor observed every last action taken by the foxes. His vision splintered violently, displaying the muscles in their hind legs tensing up and their claws being unfurled. They inched closer and closer, with Ripred putting in even more strength in his sprint as they came within three seconds of meeting each other head on.

The foxes began leaping through the air, and so did Ripred. The old rat grunted as he propelled himself off the ground and into the air. Time now stood completely still as numerous weak spots popped up all over Gregor's reddened vision. He took in a deep breath and let the rager inside him take complete control just for these few seconds.

He found himself swinging both his dagger and his sword as both foxes appeared on either side of Ripred. He could feel the sinew and muscle that his blades connected with, and could feel little splatters of blood landing on his obsidian armour. He could vaguely hear Ripred still yelling at the top of his lungs as his body brushed past both foxes. The last thing Gregor could see was a set of claws before…

Time sped up, and Gregor grunted as Ripred hit the ground hard, sending Gregor flying off the old rat's back. He quickly stumbled to his feet and limped over to Ripred, who seemed relatively unharmed despite the impact of the fall. "You ok?" Gregor asked.

With a groan, the old rat forced himself up. "I'm fine," he mumbled, staggering a bit before righting himself. He turned around and took a look at the pair of foxes. "You're good," he said to Gregor.

Gregor glanced over at them. They were lying motionless on the ground, blood gushing out of massive gashes on their throats and faces. Gregor couldn't even remember what he had done to them. That was the full extent of his power- that was the sheer strength and ability he possessed when he fully gave in to his rager abilities. It was simultaneously thrilling and frightening to know that close to no one stood any chance of taking him down.

One day he would fall, but not today. Not when he was like this.

"Stop daydreaming!" Ripred called out as he jogged down the dark corridor. "He's nearby!"

Gregor broke into a sprint down the corridor, feeling uneasy as the distinct sounds of fox growls echoed through the cavern. Their window of opportunity to save Calvin was dwindling fast, and if they couldn't get him out in time then Gregor and Ripred would be trapped together with him in this prison. It wouldn't be long before Gregor would be hanging from the noose once he was caught.

Ripred halted in front of a wooden door. "He's in there," the old rat growled.

Gregor heaved against the heavy door, but it wouldn't budge. It was probably bolted- not that it would make much of a difference. Gregor was getting in at all costs.

He quickly found the handle of the door and then drove his blade as hard as he could through the wood. The sword just about broke through, and he jiggled it around a bit, hoping to damage the lock enough. He pushed again, but it didn't work. He thrust his blade through the door a second time, this time hearing the sound of metal clashing against each other. "Come on," he snarled.

He pushed hard, but the door still refused to move. "Having a bit of trouble?" Ripred asked.

Cursing in frustration, Gregor lashed out with a powerful kick at the door. The door shifted backwards slightly, an encouraging sign amidst his exasperation in trying to bring it down. Ripred surged forward and placed both paws against the door as he begun to push it forward ever so slightly. Gregor, inhaling sharply to brace himself for the pain, rammed his shoulder against the door and put his weight behind it.

Eventually, the door groaned and moaned on its way to submission, giving way to Gregor and Ripred. It swung open and revealed a room that looked like a grotesque child of art and science. Renaissance statues were placed at awkward points in the room, an image which was tarnished by the rather messy chemistry equipment which was scattered across tables.

And sitting there, right in the centre of the room, was Calvin himself.

"Calvin!" Gregor exclaimed in delight.

Calvin's head shot up immediately. A smile of relief and excitement crossed his face for a split second, before it was buried by a concerned frown. "Gregor, don't-"

His words were suddenly caught in his throat as his eyes settled on Ripred. The frown quickly disappeared, but a smile didn't emerge in its place. Gregor could only watch on as Calvin's face morphed from anxiety to alarm to fear and now…

Complete horror.

His throat no longer inhibited words coming out of it. "Get away," Calvin said softly to Ripred, before yelling, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He then broke into quick, short breaths as symptoms of someone suffering from a panic attack began to surface. His face became shiny from sweat and his pupils dilated so much that they looked on the verge of springing out of his sockets any second now. His muscles were contracting violently as he began to hyperventilate.

And then he screamed.

The shrillness of the scram made Gregor wince, but what sent chills down his spine wasn't the decibel level of it.

It was the unadulterated fear in the scream that gave Gregor the shivers.

"They're going to find us, you idiot!" Ripred hissed at Calvin. "We're trying to rescue your sorry arse!"

"You're not helping, Ripred!" Gregor barked at the old rat. He turned to Calvin and said, "Calvin, calm down. We NEED you to calm down NOW."

But Calvin continued to scream as his eyes locked onto Ripred and refused to shift away. "Jesus," Gregor muttered under his breath, and summoned up the courage to do what was necessary.

This was going to be very unpleasant.

He fired a solid punch between Calvin's eyes, enough to leave a bruise but nothing more. Calvin's eyes rolled upwards when Gregor's fist connected with his face, and he began to look increasingly disoriented by the passing second. Finally, his head lurched backwards and he slumped back into his seat.

Gregor cut him loose from the straps which bound him to the chair and lifted him up. "I didn't know I looked that hideous," Ripred wisecracked.

"We need to get him back to Howard," Gregor said as he dragged Calvin off. "I need you to carry him out of here."

"You must be kidding," Ripred deadpanned.

"Stop being so sensitive," Gregor replied harshly. "This isn't the time to be choosy."

"Oh that's right," Ripred said sarcastically. "Put him on me and forget that he got a panic attack from seeing my face. Very wise, Overlander."

"Now's not the time for Calvin to be choosy either," Gregor told Ripred. "Just do as I say for this once."

Ripred stared at Gregor blankly for a couple of seconds, before eventually caving in to his demands. "Fine," the old rat sighed. "This better work out."

Gregor could hear the sound of foxes gathering in the distance. He quickly hauled Calvin's limp body up and draped him like a carpet over Ripred. "You run out of here as fast as you can," he said to Ripred. "Don't wait for me unless I tell you to do so. Three sharp whistles and Apollo will come for you."

"You don't really expect me to leave you behind, do you?" Ripred replied. "If anyone should be left behind, it's me."

"You can carry Calvin out of here, I can't," Gregor pointed out. "Besides, I can hold them off long enough to find a way to escape."

Ripred nodded. "Take care, boy," he said. "Fly you high."

The rat, with Calvin lying on his back, then slinked out of the room and dashed down the corridor. Gregor took in yet another deep breath to calm his nerves, before allowing his rager senses to surge through his blood once more. He ran out of the room and sprinted down towards the corridor, towards the cavern…

And found himself running into the middle of a whole fox army.

He prepared himself for an attack, but it never came. They all backed off and allowed him to walk into the middle of the cavern. He stared around, amazed at what was going on. They were literally just opening up a path for him to walk right out. Something was not right, surely they were just setting him up for some grandiose event, some theatrical spectacle, some feast for their eyes…

"Warrior," a voice behind him breathed menacingly.

* * *

 **The ending was originally a bit longer, but I decided to cut it for a bit more fun. Hope you liked this chapter and that my standard of writing didn't dip. Hope that it was exciting for y'all to see Gregor and Ripred fighting side-by-side and taking on foxes.**

 **Favourites/follows are recommended, reviews are strongly encouraged! I need them.**

 **I had a mini Easter Egg inside this chapter- a reference to DeathDrayanD. It wasn't very subtle, but nonetheless did you spot it?**

 **Question: Was the writing in this chapter ok? And do you think the voice at the end of the chapter belonged to Flavius or Snake? Or maybe… Gorger?**

 **Also, for the first time ever I'm doing two sets of death predictions for my story. Do you think anyone will die within the next few chapters? If so, who will die?**

 **By the way, I'm not trying to hint that there will be deaths in the next few chapters. I'm just leaving it up for speculation.**


	30. Chapter 30: One Eye

**Hey everyone! It's been a trying week for me, but I have found the time to squeeze out another chapter. But before I get to that, I want to thank the following people for reviewing my story: Reaper Whisper, inferno746, Im Blu, PincheeX, DeathDrayanD, Clytuis, Koipbuiop, Iron Carnotaur, Gyltig, Malorn Fairytail(glad to hear from you again!) and last but not least Randonfire(thanks for the multiple reviews!).**

 **I think most of you know how much I treasure reviews because they provide me with insight into my readers' minds. They also mean that people out there care for my story enough to share their opinion about it, positive or negative. As such, I implore you to dedicate a couple of minutes to review this chapter if you can! I put a lot of effort into this one, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I hope you enjoy it… It's another action-packed chapter with plenty of plot details!**

 **This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 30: One Eye**

It was a voice which could only belong to one fox in the whole of the Underland.

Gregor spun around and found Flavius standing behind him. The fox gazed right back at Gregor with his solitary eye, which was filled with all the malice and cruelty any individual could possibly possess. The metal mask was spine-chillingly intimidating, being just as mechanical and cold as the fox who wore it.

"Flavius," Gregor growled, unable to keep the loathing and disgust out of his voice. Flavius belonged to a unique group of individuals which Gregor absolutely detested, with the fox's illustrious counterparts including the likes of Gorger and Snake. Even the Bane, Gregor's archnemesis and the author of his pain as a teenager, did not belong to such a group. These individuals were so warped and despicable that Gregor would spare them no mercy should the opportunity to kill them arise.

Flavius' eye locked onto Gregor and the fox prowled forward eagerly. "Where is Ripred?" he asked. "I wish to speak to him."

"What for?" Gregor asked in reply, steadying his nerves. He needed to remain calm in order to defend himself against the impending assault.

"To tell him how he failed so miserably," the fox sneered in response.

Gregor's spine tingled ever so slightly as the fox let out a soft chuckle. "We haven't failed," Gregor snarled at Flavius. "We've got Calvin."

"And I have you," Flavius replied triumphantly. Under the fading light, Flavius stood out against the backdrop of an aggressive darkness. His muscles seemed to glisten and even his metal mask complemented his whole appearance. An appearance befitting for a king or a god, even a king as twisted and savage as him.

Compared to all the other foxes Flavius looked like a Greek statue, sculpted by the gods themselves. His yellow eye personified the evil that had consumed him, turning him into the monster he was today. Gregor didn't know if evil could be born, but if it was then it probably came into existence the same time Flavius did.

The malice that Gregor saw in his eye matched Gorger's and perhaps even exceeded it. For Gorger knew his boundaries and limits- he knew when he had to submit to powers greater than him. Gregor doubted that Flavius had ever come across someone who could outfight or outwit him. Gregor wasn't smart enough to try and conjure up a better plan, so he was going to have to rely on his fighting abilities.

"You see, Warrior," Flavius continued, "your city has been operating under the false impression that you've been in charge. But ever since we lost the Battle of Regalia, we've been plotting our return. For the last two years you've allowed your complacency to fester like a plague in Regalia, and this is the price you must pay- your extinction."

"What… What are you talking about?" Gregor asked Flavius, vexed by the fox's enigmatic spiel.

"Everything you've experienced over the last two years has been a product of my scheming," Flavius said with relish. "Of course it wasn't perfectly executed and there were some hiccups along the way- I'd be hard-pressed to call the plan flawless- but most things played out exactly as I had intended them to."

"How? You can't have," Gregor replied, now completely perplexed. "You can't." But as the seconds began to tick by, a sinking feeling of realisation was invoked as it dawned on him that…

Flavius had done it before.

Calvin had told him about Flavius influencing all the events leading up to the quest to fight the foxes, and even then Flavius was still plotting away. They had been caught off-guard and honestly, on the balance of the universe, deserved to get destroyed by the foxes. A stroke of luck gave Calvin a chance to deny Flavius just before he obliterated any hopes of a Regalian comeback, but without that, Regalia probably wouldn't have been standing today.

"It was elementary, really," Flavius said smugly. "I found a merry band of Bane sympathisers, and managed to convince them to sow the seeds of doubt in the Fount. I then sought out that pathetic fool Conrad and drove him over the edge."

"Drove him over the edge?"

"Tortured him until he nearly lost his sanity," Flavius explained. "I made him suffer so he'd do anything I told him to do. So I told him to act as a liaison between the rats and me."

"You're lying," Gregor growled. "The Fount would never have listened to him. They hate his guts."

"Who said he had anything to do with the Fount?" Flavius scoffed contemptuously. "You see, Overlander, this why I'm called a schemer and you're called a warrior. At the end of the day, you're merely a sword for hire. But me? I'm the brain of this whole operation. I'm the one scheming to tear all of you down. I might not fight as well as you, but I can certainly beat you in a game of chess."

"A game of chess?" Gregor snarled, realising this was his opportunity to try and turn the crowd of foxes against their king. "And I suppose all your schemers are pawns to you, are they?"

Flavius' genuine laugh completely unnerved Gregor and made his stomach turn. "Oh Overlander," Flavius said through heavy laughter. "Do you honestly think that my schemers are going to fall for your woeful attempt to vilify me?"

The foxes all began to smirk, and that was when Gregor truly understood what he was facing. Even if they were blind, obedient lapdogs who were at Flavius' disposal, they were also great thinkers, and they could definitely see through a ruse when it popped up. They were no ordinary soldiers- these were the real killers of the Underland. They exterminated the cutters and decimated countless colonies outside of Regalia.

They were working on a whole 'nother level.

"Well," Gregor said, forcing a smile onto his face with the precious little confidence that still remained, "it was worth a try."

That got Flavius into another fit of laughter, before the fox replied, "You are funny, Overlander, I'll give you that. But you are also incredibly naive, and Regalia's downfall is just as much your fault as it is the rebels'."

"What do you mean?" Gregor asked.

"I heard about your battle with Ripred," Flavius grinned. "There are whispers from the city that the battle was unlike anything that had ever been witnessed in Regalia's history. They say the ground shook and the skies roared, and even the city darkened as it became the stage for the battle of the century. And in the end, you stood over Lord Ripred, about to give him an overdue execution."

Gregor's body posture slumped slightly as the memories bit back, breaking his emotional core. He couldn't afford to look weak in front of the foxes, but Flavius' reminder of his moral decadence shattered whatever was left of his fragmented soul. Crippled by Flavius' words, he resisted the urge to weep.

"What made you stop?" Flavius asked him.

Gregor looked up at the king of the foxes in defiance. "You did."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Gregor said. "I realised that killing Ripred would make me just like you. And I'm not like you. Not in the past, not now, and not in the future."

Flavius had to stifle another maniacal laugh, biting his tongue as another chuckle bubbled on the edges of his lips. "You say that like it's a good thing," Flavius said.

"It is," Gregor snarled. "I'll never be as cruel as you."

"You'll never be as intelligent as me," Flavius replied haughtily. "Would you like to know what else I did, Overlander? Do you want to know how I tore your world apart?"

Gregor didn't know how to respond to that. He just applied some discipline to keep his mouth shut in a self-imposed silence.

"Gorger was my prisoner for the last ten years," Flavius revealed, his pupil dilating in excitement. "I released Gorger to go back to Regalia as a prisoner because I knew he would be the source of conflict between you, Ripred and Luxa. He is the one rat who can press down on all your soft spots and emotional weaknesses… He's the one who could help to turn you all against each other."

"You… You turned me against Ripred and Luxa?" Gregor said incredulously.

"I hypothesised you would," Flavius answered, his eye now dangerously gleaming with deviousness. "I didn't know my plan would be so successful. I used Conrad to encourage the rebel gnawers to fight against Regalia. I used the rebel gnawers to encourage the Fount to fight against Regalia. And I used Gorger to act as a catalyst for your conflict. Make no mistake, Overlander, Gorger is not the reason why you are fighting Ripred and Luxa. He merely gave you the chance to fight them."

"You lie," Gregor replied bluntly.

"Why would I?" Flavis responded. "You've harboured anger for a very long time. You should be grateful I gave you a chance to release it all."

"I nearly killed my friend, you son of a bitch," Gregor growled, feeling his hatred for Flavius coming to life in his voice.

"You wanted to," Flavius replied. "Don't even bother denying it. Ripred's actions were his own. Whether Gorger accelerated the conflict or not, you were always destined to kill your friend."

Gregor's grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. "And my family? Was that your plan too?"

"Of course," Flavius grinned. "It was my idea to hold them hostage. If I had known that Snake was such a blundering fool I wouldn't have chosen him to execute the plan, but I can't always get it right, can I?"

"You're sick," Gregor spat at him.

"You're only getting this now?" Flavius asked with a short cackle. "I knew you'd go straight for them. You were supposed to die together with them, but Snake's a bit too incompetent to ensure that things go according to plan. Nonetheless, I knew you'd come straight down here for Calvin. And here we are, together at last."

"We won't be together soon," Gregor retorted. "I'm not leaving this place without your head."

"Then you'll never leave it," Flavius replied. "I'm so disappointed it's come to this. This is a special era, Warrior. It really is. How many times have four ragers breathed the same air in the history of the Underland? And you want this era to just… fall apart? This is an occasion to be celebrated, not… _ruined_."

"All of us will fall one day," Gregor replied calmly. "It comes sooner for some of us."

"Indeed it does," Flavius said softly.

That was the only hint Gregor needed.

Flavius was ready for battle.

Without another word, both of them charged straight at each other. Gregor steeled his nerves and kept on running, despite how frightening it was to run headfirst at a beast like Flavius. Deep down, he hoped that Flavius would slow down and give him a chance to sort himself out mentally and tactically. He couldn't dream of beating Flavius in a straight fight- the fox was bigger than him and had a longer range.

But Flavius didn't slow down at all.

At the very last second, Gregor slid on the ground, which was diametrically opposite to Flavius' actions, who sprang through the air. For a moment, they just stared into each other's eyes- Flavius looking down as he soared through the air, Gregor looking up as he slid across the ground, sparks flying all over the place from the friction between the ground and his armour.

Then time sped back up.

Gregor rolled to his feet and spun around just to find Flavius mounting an attack towards him. He instantly brought his blade and dagger up, deflecting multiple attacks by the fox. Their hands were moving so furiously that Gregor wasn't even aware of what was going on. All he could see was the occasional claw or sword coming into contact, with the rest just a blur of ferocity and anger.

His vision began to splinter wildly as Flavius edged as close as possible, revealing a whole set of potential weaknesses. Gregor could see an armpit, a bulging vein, a tendon running down his left forelimb, the yellow eye… But every single time he tried to strike that spot, Flavius reacted with blinding speed to parry the attack aside.

Gregor backed away quickly and took a deep breath. He was going to need a more methodical approach to take Flavius on. The fox was much fitter than Ripred and a more skilful fighter, so this wasn't going to be simple at all. With Ripred he could afford to use his rager abilities and prime strength to devastating effect, but with Flavius? Brute force would barely give him five minutes against the rager king.

Flavius swung to Gregor's left, with Gregor mirroring his action and lifting his dagger to meet Flavius' claws. Sparks flew through the air once more as the blade came into contact with the claw. Gregor followed up by a fierce thrust at Flavius' neck, which the fox parried aside casually. Gregor then lunged at Flavius with a fierce flick towards the left side of the fox's face, but Flavius was equal to it once again.

Gregor quickly danced out of the way as Flavius launched a series of aggressive attacks, swinging at Gregor's head and then leaping forward to try and sink his teeth into Gregor's shoulder. But Gregor was far too swift to be taken out by such simple attacks. He coolly hopped aside, and then lashed out with a fierce counter-attack, trying to catch Flavius off-guard. But Flavius was able to bat the thrust aside with his claws and continue his onslaught.

Gregor tried to surprise him again, this time pulling off a feint by thrusting towards the fox's right shoulder, before changing the direction his blade was heading by stabbing towards Flavius' left jaw. Flavius, however, pulled off an unreal reaction by bringing his left claw up to deflect the attack in the very last second.

Gregor stumbled backwards and took a breather, while Flavius looked on and smirked. "Tired already?" he mocked Gregor.

Gregor smiled. He didn't know why, but he smiled. "That was just a warm-up."

Flavius suddenly launched himself forward, crashing head-first into Gregor's chest and sending the both of them sprawling across the uneven stone floor. Gregor gasped desperately as he felt the air rush out of his lungs. Winded and slightly disoriented, he tried to get to his feet, but dropped back onto one knee as his world spiralled about.

He barely had time to react when he saw a looming shadow swing into view. Fuelling his rager abilities, he brought his sword and dagger up just in time to shield his head as Flavius brought both sets of claws down onto him. He kept his sword and dagger in position, holding Flavius' claws in place and preparing himself for Flavius' next series of attacks.

But Flavius just kept his claws in position, and then _pressed down_.

Gregor gritted his teeth and bit down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming. His shoulder muscles, on the other hand, screamed like never before as Flavius exerted all the force he had and pushed downwards with his claws, even using his body weight to try and crush Gregor. Gregor's vision became intensely blurry and his forehead must have been glistening with sweat. A single drop of sweat calmly rolled down his nose and lip, finally arriving at the chin and tickling the hell out of him.

Flavius continued to press down with intent, causing Gregor's knees to come under heavy strain. He felt his spine slowly arching backward, bending slowly like a bow. And like a bow being bent back in such an extreme manner, he felt it threatening to snap any second soon. He had to think of something, and think of something fast.

He mustered all the strength he had left and slowly forced himself onto his feet, much to the protestation of his shoulder muscles, which were burning so much they might as well have been literally on fire. As they groaned from the strain, Gregor realised that they were writing his epitaph for him. He was going to have to use his lower body to help himself out.

Although terribly off-balance, he managed to find the strength to lift his leg and in a most ungainly fashion, fire a kick at Flavius' throat. It was easily one of the weaker kicks Gregor had ever delivered, but it was enough to cause Flavius to gag and stumble backward. Gregor, still off-balance, staggered backward himself, before righting himself to take Flavius on again.

Flavius recovered quickly and leapt forward, swinging high with his left claw and then lashing out with a sweeping strike towards Gregor's feet, trying to take advantage of Gregor's lack of balance. But Gregor displayed fantastic poise by parrying the swing from Flavius' left claw while simultaneously adjusting his feet to avoid the strike towards his knees.

He then countered with quick jabs at Flavius, trying to cause the fox to panic and flail about. But Flavius was far too experienced to fall prey to such a strategy. He easily parried all the attacks and even tried to rip Gregor's head off with his jaws. But Gregor leaned back just in time and the jaws closed down on air.

Gregor suddenly surprised himself and Flavius by flipping through the air as Luxa taught him, gracefully landing on Flavius back. But unlike other foxes, Flavius reacted faster than Gregor. He threw himself to the ground and rolled around, throwing Gregor off-balance once again and forcing him to leap off Flavius' back.

Flavius leapt back onto his feet and tried to cleave Gregor's head off with yet another slash, but Gregor artfully parried the attack with his sword, before stabbing at Flavius with lightning speed. Flavius was able to parry the attack with his right claw, but had crucially left his right side unguarded. Sensing a window to hurt Flavius, Gregor fired a fierce jab at Flavius' right forelimb with his dagger.

And to his delight, the blade found its way through the fox's supposedly impervious defence and sank into the tendon.

Flavius unleashed a howl of pain and humiliation as he pulled back quickly, limping away from Gregor. Gregor glanced down at his dagger. It was coloured a shiny crimson red.

"First blood goes to me," Gregor said simply and solemnly, resisting the urge to taunt Flavius.

Flavius afforded himself a pained smile. "Not bad," he admitted. "But we're far from being done here."

Gregor sprinted forward and swung wildly with his sword and dagger, forcing Flavius to desperately parry all the attacks aside with left forelimb. Gregor refused to give Flavius a breather, repeatedly stabbing at the fox and forcing him backward. Each thrust was delivered with passionate anger, as Gregor fueled every stroke with memories of Flavius' cruelty.

Flavius suddenly surprised Gregor with a backhand swing. The fox's left forelimb connected with Gregor's left side, sending Gregor hurtling through the air. For a couple of seconds, Gregor's heart rate accelerated as he felt as if he was falling down the throat of eternity. He could see the smallest details all around him- the foxes cheering, Flavius' smouldering look of anger dead set in his single eye, and the fading light…

And then he crashed with full force against the ground, bouncing off slightly and landing near the exit of the cavern. Foxes quickly converged on the exit, blocking off any possible escape route for Gregor. But Gregor had no intention of escaping any time soon- he was gasping for air and his head felt way too light. He tried to get up, but his muscles were too fatigued from the intense fighting to help him.

A growing pain suddenly welled up in his back, and he winced as he slowly got to his feet. Still feeling the effects of the hard crash, he grunted as he steadied himself to stop himself from falling. During moments like this, he was glad he had a mask to prevent the foxes from seeing him grimace in pain. Any sign of weakness would give them the encouragement to bay Flavius on to victory.

Gregor picked his sword up and reached for his dagger, only to realise it wasn't anywhere near him. He glanced about the cavern, and found it lying right in the middle. But any hopes of reaching it were extinguished when Flavius stepped towards it and calmly flicked a claw out at it, sending it skidding across the cavern floor and further away from Gregor.

Flavius advanced forward with real menace now, baring his teeth into a snarl. The king's ego had been bruised for Gregor, and the time for jokes and quips had come to a spectacular end. Now it was time for the bitter fighting to begin.

Gregor slowly broke into a jog and made the first move against Flavius, swinging towards Flavius' head. The fox ducked underneath the swing and countered with a slash, which Gregor similarly ducked under. Claw and blade then met together for the umpteenth time when Gregor's swing and Flavius' swing clashed together.

With two hands on the hilt of his sword, Gregor was able to wield it much better, adjusting it to parry Flavius' relentless attacks. The fox had pretty much lost his right forelimb to injury, but his left paw was doing all the heavy work magnificently, defending and attacking with equal finesse. Gregor, despite holding an advantage since he was able to use both hands, was starting to tire from the exhaustion of taking on so many adversaries.

This battle was going to end soon, and Gregor wasn't sure who would be breathing at the end of it.

He quickly inspected his opponent's physical condition. Flavius was starting to bleed quite heavily from the wound on his right forelimb, and was noticeably limping whenever he tried to move forward. He still occasionally used it to defend himself, but was starting to rely on his left forelimb more and more. That meant that his left forelimb would be exhausted of all strength soon, even if Flavius' stamina still held up well.

He launched a series of repeated stabs at Flavius' left side in order to wear Flavius out, but Flavius backed out of range of Gregor's sword, dancing to the side and avoiding confrontation as much as possible.

 _He knows I want to wear his left side out_ , Gregor thought to himself.

Gregor then aimed for the right side, forcing Flavius to bring his left paw across to fend off the attacks. But after using his claws to whack some of Gregor's attacks aside, he began to dance out of range again, seemingly intent on holding back from any kind of physical engagement against Gregor.

Flavius was starting to show why he was tactically superior to Gregor.

Growling in frustration, Gregor pursued him across the cavern, lunging forward the moment an opportunity to hurt the fox king arose. But Flavius was far too swift and had his rager abilities working in full force, sometimes pulling off a brilliant reaction to thwart Gregor's stab or slash. Gregor, however, was not content to let Flavius run. He chased after Flavius, narrowly missing his tail by inches with one particular swing of his blade.

Suddenly, Flavius slammed his left paw into Gregor's chest. The sheer force of the hit sent Gregor flying back again. He rocketed through the air and crashed so hard against the cavern floor he could see little specks fly up through the air as he came into impact with the ground. At first, he didn't feel anything. The impact of the fall didn't hit him until seconds later.

A ripple of pain surged up his back and could even be felt at the back of his head. He writhed around on the ground for a few seconds, unable to hold himself back from expressing the agony he was rolling in at the moment. He didn't bother trying to conceal the pain- he was long past that. Flavius hadn't even drawn a single drop of blood out of Gregor and yet had inflicted so much more pain.

Gregor's disjointed thoughts were preventing him from formulating any kind of tactic or strategy to be employed against Flavius, who was now moving towards Gregor with a grin plastered back on his face. His eyes blurred and splintered at the same time, showcasing Flavius' weaknesses but being far too hazy to give Gregor a chance of hurting the king of the foxes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his dagger lying a few feet away from him. Flavius grinned smugly, clearly a sign that he believed he was on the cusp of victory. But his complacency had blinded his other eye to the dagger lying so close to Gregor. Gregor's eyes darted between Flavius and the dagger on the ground. He needed to wait for Flavius to come in closer, and then the fox would have no time to react to Gregor's attack.

Gregor didn't have to do anything in particular to convince Flavius that he was incapacitated and vulnerable. Already lying prone on the ground, he feigned even more pain, again not a particularly challenging task. He crawled across the ground towards the dagger, but making his movements small and trying to look like he was genuinely trying to get away from Flavius.

Flavius' single eye glinted with triumphant glee. "So, Warrior," Flavius smirked. "Has your fall come too soon for your liking?"

Flavius was unwittingly inching closer to death whilst on his way to kill Gregor. Even his rager abilities would not be able to save him from an attack from such a close range. Gregor's eyes now settled firmly on the dagger.

It was going to be now or never.

Summoning up strength from his fleeting resolve, he surged forward across the ground and got hold of the hilt of the dagger. He could start to hear the cries of confusion punctuating the air as the foxes barked in dismay. Channelling his focus into what he needed to do, he spun around as fast as humanly possible and took a quick look at Flavius.

Surprise had registered in the fox's eye as they stared right at each other for less than a second. Gregor could see everything in that second- the hatred, the cruelty, the cunning… and in a split second of betrayal, his facade dropped and revealed raw pain.

Pain.

Gregor almost froze in sympathy, but his impulses took control on this occasion. His arm began to arc back, and before he knew it the dagger was no longer in his hands. It was already spinning through the air, powering forward like it had a will of its own. As expected, Flavius' attempts to defend himself ended up being futile at most. The dagger was already inches away from his face by the time he tried to duck or raise his paw. It was now a mere second away from winning the war…

And, to Gregor's horror, it struck the metal mask and bounced onto the ground harmlessly.

The blow of the dagger was enough to shock Flavius and send him staggering backward, but the only mark it left was a visible scratch on his metal mask. Gregor felt his heart sinking as Flavius brought a paw up to his face to check if he was alright, before turning to Gregor with a wide smile. "Fate has an interesting way of playing us for fools," Flavius said. "Calvin indirectly saved my life."

Gregor gazed around him, almost hoping for a miracle to happen before his very eyes. His sword was closer to Flavius than him, and his dagger was literally right in front of the fox. His armour was badly dented and scratched, while his mask failed to shield Flavius from seeing the fear and despair that lay underneath.

They both knew that Gregor was pretty much beaten.

With nothing to lose, Gregor threw caution to the wind and acted purely on impulse.

He charged straight at Flavius with no weapons at all.

Flavius was caught off-guard by Gregor's decision, stumbling backward slightly in surprise. That was the one reaction that opened up a weakness for Gregor. With a bloodcurdling scream of rage, he slammed into Flavius and sent the two of them bowling over.

Gregor sprang to his feet quickly and leapt through the air, landing heavily on a sprawling Flavius. One of his feet connected with Flavius' snout, while the other one pressed down on Flavius' trachea. But instead of trying to break Flavius' neck, Gregor let the rage and rager merge within him.

So instead of taking advantage of Flavius' vulnerability, he stepped off Flavius and rained punch after punch down on the left side of the fox's face, the gauntlets drawing blood from the perfectly groomed fur which resulted in a look of organised chaos. Cuts began to open up on Flavius' face as Gregor just pummeled him, even firing an occasional punch at Flavius' throat and chest area. With mercy banished into the Tartarus of his head, he just punched and punched and…

Then, with a roar of fury, Flavius lashed out with his left paw, the claws digging into Gregor's mask and tearing some of the metal off it. All Gregor saw was a brief flash of his paw and then…

Complete frightening darkness for what felt like ages.

When Gregor opened his eyes, his face felt… naked. He reached up and brushed it with his gauntlet, making a face when he realised he was touching…

He was touching…

Skin.

He brought his left arm up and felt the left side of his face- Metal. So his mask was still on… in that case, why could he feel skin?

His questions were quickly answered by a quick look at the scattered metal across the ground. He brought his fingers up to touch the exposed side of his face once more, and this time he looked down at the gauntlet.

Blood.

It took a while for Gregor to register that half his mask had been torn off by Flavius' claws. His fingers began to wander his face in panic, and he began to pray desperately that he hadn't lost any part of his face. But the quick check-up only yielded results of a deep gash around his temple, with nothing else being lost in the process.

Blood obscured his vision as it ran down his head He looked around at the apprehensive foxes, who actually looked nervous. He turned back to face Flavius, who was in the process of slowly rising to his feet, the left side of his face bloodied but still relatively intact. The sadistic twinkle in his eye had disappeared though, replaced by dark anger.

Suddenly, he launched himself at Gregor, who was practically defenseless. All Gregor could do was watch on helplessly as the figure of Flavius drew nearer and nearer, his claws now mere feet away from finishing the job and ending Gregor's miserable life…

… when a black figure suddenly crashed into Flavius, knocking him off-course and sending him sliding across the cavern floor. Gregor's eyes widened in surprise, as the incoherent series of events left him dazed and confused. What on earth was going on?

His dull senses picked up on the black figure, which settled down in front of him. Gregor stumbled about for a bit, the fast-paced action too searing for his brain to handle. But when his eyes finally focused on the black figure, he allowed himself a weak half-smile.

"I told you to get Calvin… and Ripred out," Gregor panted, the blood trickling down his face proving to be a little distracting.

"They've got out," Apollo assured him. "They're clear of this area. But we're not going back to Regalia without you."

Gregor stared ahead at Flavius, who was taking his time to get back onto his feet. "We don't have much of a chance to kill him," Gregor said bleakly.

"We don't have to," Apollo reminded him. "Our mission is a success. Let's get out."

"No one's leaving," Snake boomed as he strode into the cavern with a whole troop of mercenaries.

Flavius spat blood out of his mouth. "I ordered you to leave us alone," he snarled at Snake.

"Nobody orders me around," Snake replied coldly. "Not even you."

"Snake," Gregor snarled in greeting.

Snake nodded in Gregor's direction in response, before turning his attention back to Flavius. "You couldn't even stop the old rat from getting out of here."

"Ah yes," Flavius said bitterly. "I believe we're one rager short."

"He got away with Calvin!" Snake said angrily.

Gregor glanced up at Apollo quickly. The dispute between Flavius and Snake was the perfect chance to escape out of their current predicament. But they were going to need to pull off something they had practised back in the arena in order to stand any chance of getting out. "Manoeuvre five," Gregor mouthed to Apollo.

Apollo nodded back.

Within seconds, they had gotten into action. Gregor dove for his dagger while Apollo launched himself forward to pick up his sword. The moment Gregor grabbed hold of the hilt of his dagger, he pushed off and sprinted forward. He had to wait for approximately two more seconds.

One.

And then he jumped into the air and extended his legs to the side. As expected, the move was executed flawlessly and Gregor found himself settled on Apollo's back. The bat then flipped Gregor's sword up into the air, allowing Gregor to catch it.

Gregor barely had time to react the moment he heard gunshots. Still on Apollo's back, he torqued his body and swivelled around as much as possible, deflecting the bullets with his sword and dagger. A few bullets flew just centimetres wide of the exposed part of his face and a couple more bullets nearly hit Apollo's head, but within seconds the bat was hurtling down a complicated series of tunnels.

Gregor heard a couple more gunshots, and his heart even leaped in fright when he felt a bullet whizz by his ear, but apart from that, they left the tunnels relatively unscathed. Barks and growls echoed around the whole stone structure, invoking a sense of urgency that seemed to spur Apollo on to fly faster.

And then he rocketed out of the tunnels and into the open air. Gregor released a cathartic sigh of relief, but deep down he knew it was far from over.

The fall of ragers had just begun.

* * *

 **Hope you liked this chapter! Things are really beginning to heat up, because we're approaching the beginning of the end. Of course, we still have at least one more major event before the actual fall of ragers, so there's definitely still time for some major characters to die in the lead up to that. But will they die? Guess you'll have to find that out for yourself.**

 **Just a short warning before I continue- Given that this is supposed to be the conclusion to the trilogy, some fan favourites might not make it out alive. To be honest, some characters' fates are still hanging in the balance (in that they might or might not die) but for some others… Their fate has already been sealed.**

 **Favourites/follows recommended, and of course please review! Please!**

 **Question: Who did you feel was the better fighter in the fight between Flavius and Gregor?**

 **Also there was a lot of symbolism/subtext in this chapter. Can you find it and interpret it? You can begin by taking a look at the name of the chapter.**

 **Let me know your thoughts in the reviews section!**


	31. Chapter 31: Prophecy of Ragers

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the fairly late update. As usual, I've been pretty busy recently so it took me some time. But to those who reviewed during this period, you have my sincerest gratitude. Thanks to: Malorn FairyTail, Reaper Whisper, Im Blu, a guest reader, HumanicHedgeHog (nice to hear from you again!), Gyltig, Koipbuiop, The Writer of all Mistakes, Iron Carnotaur, MarbleSky, TheGreatAthlon5, DeathDrayanD, another guest reader, Clytuis, yet another guest reader and inferno746. It's been a real pleasure hearing your thoughts, so please continue!**

 **This chapter might seem a bit slow and complicated, but I really needed this chapter to slow the pace of the story down because we've had a lot of action chapters recently. This will give you guys a chance to see how events have unfolded, as well as to apply some literary analysis. I used this chapter to experiment some ideas I had.**

 **This chapter is written from Luxa's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: Prophecy of Ragers**

 _The black jewel sparkled brilliantly under the weak light of the flickering flame._

" _Your Majesty," the guard on her right said urgently._

 _Luxa nodded and wrapped her fingers around the jewel. "We make for the Waterway," she said softly._

 _Cracks started to stretch out across the ceiling and the walls ominously, and a loud roar could be heard in the distance. "Vikus built this," Luxa whispered. "My grandfather built this."_

 _The narrow corridor they were huddled in began to groan as it rumbled angrily, ancient dust raining down on Luxa and her royal guards. "The extensions on the south side are collapsing, your Majesty," one royal guard reported to her. "Its collapse is causing everything else to fall apart as well."_

 _Luxa's eyes wandered across the walls, inscriptions regaling them of a once glorious past and the hope of a better future. But her hubris and hope had worked together to tear everything apart, brick by brick. She hadn't seen the disease gathering, but now it had infected so many tunnels that it had become a parasite, gnawing away at the foundations and now driving it to the edge of complete destruction._

 _If she hadn't dared to venture transgressively beyond the boundaries, then perhaps it could have been saved. If she hadn't tried to build those new bridges and tunnels, perhaps she could have been satisfied with what she still had, ruling peacefully over these ancient tunnels. But for Luxa, being satisfied was never enough. She wanted her own name inscribed on these walls, mentioned in the same breath as Sandwich and Vikus._

 _She had lived high up in her ivory tower, too far away to watch the decaying tunnels collapse upon itself. She was too preoccupied with the impending invasion that she failed to realise the true threat came from within. An ambitious attempt at building a megastructure had failed spectacularly, and she deserved to be the victim of it. If she had paid more attention, then maybe she could have rectified or remedied the situation._

 _Now it was far too late._

 _All she had left was the black jewel._

 _It was damaged around the edges and had lost some of its glimmer, but it was still the most precious thing in the world to her. If she stared long and hard at it for a period of time, she could even make out a glimpse of its original sparkle. She had forgotten about it for a long time, keeping it hidden in a safe where no one else would look for it. One day, she had picked it up and began adoring it again, but sentiment could only last so long. She grew tired and began to treat it coldly, leaving it to the mercy of isolation even amongst other jewels._

 _She didn't realise how much she loved it till the end._

 _Her eyes wandered across the wall and settled on a straight line with a thin, beak-like appendage. She could recognise that sign anywhere- Hazard had taught her how to recognise a scythe when she saw one. Memories began to resurface… Dark memories, with a hooded figure in a black robe wielding a scythe._

 _A symbol of death._

 _One of the marks of secret._

 _Luxa was going to die now that she had seen it._

" _Run, your Majesty!" one royal guard barked. "Run!"_

 _She began to sprint down the tunnel as a cold wind raced down its throat, causing her to shiver uncontrollably as it became more intense. Everything about the cold wind was familiar- its bite and its harshness, and yet it also seemed to tenderly caress her cheeks, as if it didn't intend to claim her, it just wanted to hurt her._

 _She suddenly found herself in the middle of a rotunda. Light spilled through its windows and fell on her, keeping her firmly under its watchful glare. Ancient statues were positioned at twelve different points of the rotunda, all staring at her sinisterly as she became the focus of all the attention._

 _Her guards stayed close behind her, emerging in the rotunda and standing alongside her. The old building began to shake slightly, before bursting into violent shudders and spasms. Struggling to stay upright, Luxa stumbled about as the ground shook with fury. The whole building released a bellow of anguish before it abruptly stopped moving. Luxa continued to stagger about for a while whilst trying to regain her bearings._

 _Suddenly, dark humanoid figures began to step out behind the statues surrounding her. They raised their swords and began to advance towards her quietly, with only the echoes of their footsteps ringing out around the rotunda. Each echo chimed like a death knell as the shadows moved closer, and closer, and closer…_

 _Luxa felt the cold wind wrapping around her body, slowly squeezing the life and hope out of her. Her spine tingled and the hair on her arms and legs stood up while the shadow monsters closed the gap between themselves and her. Her soldiers quickly packed themselves closed together, surrounding her even in the face of certain death._

 _There was only one thing left for her to do._

" _Engage them!" she ordered._

 _The royal guards instantly rushed forward and began to engage the shadowed beings in battle. Luxa, unleashing a battle cry, threw herself into battle as well, endeavouring to take down as many of them as possible. She parried aside a couple of thrusts by one shadow, before responding with a series of slashes and thrusts herself, only to see it parry her attacks too. Howling in frustration, she then feinted towards its left and changed direction in a split second, piercing its chest with her sword._

 _The shadow screamed in pain and then perished, disappearing into thin air. Luxa was forced to adjust her footing quickly as two more shadows launched attacks against her. She quickly recovered from the surprise to ruthlessly take them down, slitting the throat of the first one and then stabbing the other one repeatedly, gutting it into nothingness._

 _Then she turned to glance at her royal guards._

 _To her despair, she saw them falling one by one, hacked to death by the merciless shadows or being stabbed from behind by them. One royal guard even screamed in anguish, "Run, your Majesty!" before he was cruelly beheaded by a shadow._

 _Luxa screamed in fury and launched a renewed assault on the shadows, hacking them to pieces and mounting attack after attack with more strength and courage than she had ever possessed over the last few months. Bits of shadow floated through the air as she took them down, driven by the anger of losing her guards to these monsters._

 _One shadow tried to attack her from behind but she lashed out with a kick, sending it flying back and crashing against the wall, and she just had enough time to spin around and block another strike, before stabbing her blade right through it and extinguishing it. She flipped through the air gracefully as it became more crowded, backing away to a spot where she could defend herself a bit better._

 _Just at that very second, she felt the weight in her hand lighten considerably. She looked down and found herself staring at an open palm. Beyond the palm, the black jewel plummeted towards the ground, falling slowly and gracefully as it seemed to willingly embrace its own demise. Luxa screamed desperately and reached out for the black jewel, but it was far too late. It eluded her grasp and landed on the ground._

 _The impact caused it to shatter, emitting a blinding white light that forced Luxa to shield her eyes for a second or two. When she reopened them, all she saw was scattered shards of the jewel, stretching out all over the floor of the rotunda. The noise of it shattering to pieces echoed louder than the shadow's footsteps, devouring the silence hungrily._

 _Luxa looked down at the scene in disbelief. Her world and the structures she had worked so hard to build had been steadily razed to the ground right in front of her very eyes, and yet nothing hit her quite as hard as seeing that black jewel break apart. Her soul became an endless void, sucking in all her remaining emotions and ripping them apart till all she had left was the cold._

 _She dropped to her knees and picked up a few shards, fingering them gently and watching them slowly slip past her fingers. Every time a shard of the jewel hit the ground, she felt like someone had driven a blade through her heart. And now her heart bled through her tears, as they ran down her face like a cold stream, washing away memories of the past and corroding cherished moments._

 _She felt her heart splinter into a million pieces, each one the same size as the shards on the ground. She slowly rose back to her feet and turned to face the demonic shadows, who stood in front of her grimly. They looked like reapers, politely waiting to take her to a place where she would be alone forever. But at least she could savour oblivion there, enjoying a meaningless life without having to live through any kind of pain._

 _So she stood there calmly as they walked right up to her and began to run their blades through her, opening up enormous gashes all over her body. But the wounds did not bleed- they merely screamed, relieved to have found an outlet to release their suffering. The decibel level increased, sending chunks of the rotunda raining down on the ground like hailstones. Luxa looked up at the light which fell gently on her face, begging for her to be put out of her misery._

 _They ravaged her more and more, stabbing her faster and with greater urgency. And suddenly, she gratefully inhaled one last breath, and then…_

 _And then…_

 _Oblivion._

* * *

"Luxa?"

Luxa's eyes adjusted slowly to the light in front of her. It was the weak light of a flickering flame, but was still bright enough for her to flinch slightly. She focused on the voice instead- on its softness and fragility, yet containing the slightest hints of self-assured confidence in its tone. Luxa only knew someone who possessed such a complicated mindset and such a complex range of emotions in one voice.

"Nerissa?" she croaked out weakly, rubbing her eyes and trying to take a better look.

"I am here," her cousin whispered softly.

"Why?" Luxa asked, starting to incorporate her characteristic aggressiveness and ferocity into her tone. "Have you no bed to sleep?"

"Your guards heard you crying out in your sleep," Nerissa replied. "They refused to enter the room without your permission, so they sought me out to check on you."

Seeing the concern in Nerissa's eyes, Luxa couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt over her frosty relationship with Nerissa over the last two years. Ever since she had invited Gorger back and had placed him under the protection of Regalian soldiers, Luxa had distanced herself away from Nerissa, betrayed that she was protecting the rat who had slaughtered her parents and taken their crown.

Gorger's return rekindled painful memories- memories of her tears as she stood next to her parents' coffins, feeling lonely in the cold, unforgiving world of the Underland. This was a rat who was behind Henry's betrayal, encouraging and coercing Henry into becoming his ally and betraying her. Luxa loved Henry like a brother, and it broke her heart when he sold her out to the rats.

And just as she felt Henry had betrayed her, so she felt Nerissa had betrayed her too.

Nerissa had invited the rat who had essentially killed her brother, a rat who had poisoned Henry with his blatant lies and false promises. The least she expected of Nerissa was to put the son of a bitch to death. But Nerissa had fallen down her brother's past and had become enchanted by Gorger's words, protecting him and giving him the opportunity to stir up unrest in Regalia, which he duly did.

The only excuse keeping Gorger alive was Nerissa's word that he had a part to play in Regalia's success, but even Luxa's belief in her cousin's sightseeing abilities had begun to wane. She had always been slightly skeptical but often encouraged Nerissa to embrace her abilities, standing by her side while others derided and mocked her for being frail and weak and deluded. In a sense, Luxa had supported her in the hope that one day Nerissa would repay her faith in her.

So it broke her heart when Nerissa defied her cousin's orders and had Gorger placed in a maximum security prison. Leaving him alive was a mistake in the first place… He had found a way to work Gregor and Ripred and Luxa against each other, tearing down Regalia's pillars and sending the whole place into metaphorical and physical ruin.

Rats were still being ostracised and attacked by humans, even though they had absolutely nothing to do with their brethren's actions. Whole rat homes were raided and looted under the pretence of searching for evidence, and while Luxa had reprimanded her soldiers for acting in such an abhorrent manner, they had refused to tone down their aggressiveness towards the rats, continuing to pillage numerous buildings associated with rats.

This barbarism was all initiated by Gorger, who sat innocently in his cell while he watched his words unleash devastating damage on the city. And the moment they released him to the rebel gnawers, he arrived back at Regalia's doorstep with a whole army, ready to destroy all Luxa held dear for one final time.

And of course, he had killed York. He had the opportunity to kill Luxa, but had deliberately toyed with her by killing her uncle instead. Her uncle, who had sacrificed his life and his men to redeem himself and protect his niece. Gorger knew that breaking her emotionally was a punishment far worse than death.

All this had happened because Nerissa had decided to leave Gorger alive.

"Why?" Luxa asked abruptly.

"I beg your pardon?" Nerissa asked in confusion.

Luxa gazed into her cousin's purple irises. "Why did you keep Gorger alive?"

The concern and confusion in Nerissa's eyes faded, and guilt arose in its place. "Luxa… I… I am so sorry York lost his light. I merely kept Gorger alive because he was crucial to our success in my dreams. I did not know he would-"

"Have you ever wondered, dear cousin," Luxa interrupted her as tears began to well up in her eyes, "if, perhaps, your dreams are flawed? That they are what they are- just dreams?"

Nerissa's guilt was now laced with uncertainty. "I never questioned them, cousin. They always guided us in our time of need, and no matter how dire the situation was the words of Sandwich always held true."

"Have you ever wondered," Luxa said coldly, "if Sandwich's prophecies only came true because we made them true? Have you wondered if they were fulfilled only because we fulfilled them ourselves?"

"No, Luxa," Nerissa said. "The words of Sandwich have clearly been fulfilled with or without our intervention."

"He predicted Gregor's death," Luxa pointed out. "Gregor is still alive."

"He predicted the _Warrior's_ death," Nerissa corrected her.

"And yet the Warrior has been brought back to life," Luxa replied.

Nerissa's eyes dipped for a second. She muttered something under her breath and then shook her head, before saying, "Sandwich foretold his resurrection too."

Luxa frowned. "There was no such prophecy. I searched through the whole room and studied all the scrolls, but none spoke of the Warrior's resurrection."

"There was one," Nerissa said hesitantly and almost sheepishly. "I had it burned the moment I discovered it, because its contents would threaten to send our city into chaos. None shall ever know of its existence but me."

"A secret scroll?" Luxa said incredulously.

"Aye," Nerissa said softly. "One which spoke of how the Underland would change forever. It spoke of the resurrection of the dead."

"Recite it to me, Nerissa," Luxa pressed her. "I must know of its contents!"

"I swore I would never recite it again," Nerissa insisted. "Not even for you, cousin."

"At least tell me its name," Luxa egged her to reveal even a sliver of the prophecy.

"Sandwich called it the Prophecy of Ragers," Nerissa answered. "But many other scholars who read it in the aftermath also called it the Prophecy of Darkness, or the Prophecy of Death."

A chill ran down Luxa's spine. Prophecy of… _Death_? Death frightened her, because she didn't like the idea of ceasing to exist. She could be immortalised as a heroine and a queen, history could scream her name down the centuries and statues could be built in her honour, but it wouldn't really be… her. She wouldn't be able to witness it or to think. She would just be… nothing.

Nerissa suddenly slumped forward. "Nerissa?" Luxa called out to her cousin.

Nerissa jerked back up and her eyes began to roll backwards. The blood rushed away from her face and she became as white as a ghost. "Nerissa," Luxa tried to get her cousin's attention as panic creeped into her voice. "Nerissa, are you alright?"

"My end is near," Nerissa whispered. She began to lean backwards, and only didn't fall off the bed because Luxa caught her arm.

"Prophecy of Ragers will be fulfilled soon," Nerissa said softly. "I can speak no more, cousin."

"Then speak no more," Luxa told her. She then shouted as loud as she possibly could, "GUARDS!"

Her royal guards burst into the room in an instant. "Take Nerissa to the hospital," Luxa ordered them.

"Under Dr Howard's care, your Majesty?" one of them asked her.

"Dr Howard is currently residing in the Fount," she told them. "He will not be available for the next few weeks. Bring her to his assistants. I trust they will take good care of her."

Nodding obediently, they lifted Nerissa up and left the room promptly, leaving Luxa alone once more. Sighing aloud to herself, she forced her stiff body out of bed and walked over to the window to gaze at the rest of the city from her vantage point. The dim lights and eerie silence of the city gave her time to reflect on the events of the past few days.

After Gregor had left Regalia for his family, Luxa had spent most of her time in the Fount, doing her best to repair the damaged diplomatic relationship between the two cities. Many came to the city to pay their respects to the Fount's fallen leader, kneeling or bowing before his body. York was a stubborn and difficult man, but he was also kind, generous and cared deeply for the people around him.

He deserved all the respect he could get.

Howard was broken by the loss of his father. He spent hours sitting by the body, quietly crying and lamenting the untimely passing of York. She tried to comfort him, but he was inconsolable. His siblings were also distraught, but none of them expressed it as openly as York did. And for the first time ever, Luxa felt pity for the usually obnoxious Stellovet, who was silenced completely by the death.

Luxa knew what it felt like to lose parents to Gorger. She could sympathise with her cousins, who all handled the emotional weight in different ways. Young Chimney spent a lot of time walking down hallways, appreciating portraits of her family which seemed to solemnly darken as a shadow passed over the Fount.

Susannah, meanwhile, had been forced to assume the position as the governess of the Fount. The high seat in the Fount was not exactly a royal position, even if the person who sat on it had royal blood. Whoever sat in its seat could only be addressed as a governor or a governess, but that person also had the same liberty as kings and queens. Regalia's monarchy acted as a supervising force, but Susannah was still in charge of all matters. The burden of improving the city's morale fell squarely on her shoulders.

The hardest job for Luxa was to relay the message to Susannah. Thankfully, she needed no words- upon arrival in the Fount, she sought her aunt out immediately. The look on her face must have conveyed the message, because within seconds she found herself hugging Susannah as tears began to fall freely.

It always had to end in tears.

The irony was that York's death was the necessary catalyst in the reconciling of the Fount and Regalia. It was heartbreaking that a good man had to die in order to end a feud which stained both city's reputations. Many wounds that day were healed, but at a great cost. York's loss would send shockwaves across the Underland, and Luxa had no doubt that the rebel gnawers would be gathering their forces to strike while both cities mourned and grieved.

On the day of the funeral, she had delivered a tearful eulogy urging all the different species and colonies of the Underland to unite against the threat of the schemers, but these words had lost some weight. The battle of Regalia was the climax of inter-species relations, and it had been slowly rotting away ever since it concluded. Regalia had assumed its position as a superpower once again, forgetting that it needed its allies in order to succeed.

Perhaps Luxa wasn't astute enough to run the city. She should have had the foresight to repair diplomatic relationships before it got strained, but she was too caught up in the whirlwind of survival and success to care about the plight of other species. The fliers, in particular, had suffered greatly, and Nike had made it explicitly clear that the series of events leading up to the battle of Regalia had been the fault of the humans.

Luxa had arrogantly dismissed Nike's words without realising what she was trying to imply- soon, allies would become enemies and happiness would turn to sorrow. The fliers and the humans were too close for their alliance to fall apart, but the rest? Who knows whether the spinners or even the crawlers intended to wage a war against Regalia?

She didn't want her uncle's death to be in vain. She wanted to use it as a platform to unite all the other species, because that would have been what he wanted. For all the smaller and more vulnerable species or colonies to be remembered rather than bullied, and to be treated with the same respect which they accorded to Regalia themselves.

Luxa remembered walking around the Fount, gazing at small statues dedicated in honour of York. Somehow, they didn't look like York to her… They seemed more like the Greek mythological character Thanatos, the personification of death. The statues had no wings, of course, but the design and armour he wore seemed eerily familiar to the Greek warriors she read about when she was a young girl.

Death came to all, but sometimes you didn't realise when it was staring you in the face.

The pawns in her game of chess with Flavius had been wasted. She hadn't even realised that she was playing the game until it was too late. By then. Flavius had accrued a tremendous advantage and was now forcing her to play the game according to his will. And the one thing Luxa hated most was unwittingly dancing to someone else's tune.

The schemers had allowed the Underland to tear itself apart through conflict, and now that they were so exhausted fighting each other, the schemers had chosen to strike. Hundreds, even thousands of nibblers were being forced out of their homes by the rampaging schemers led by Gaius. She just received news yesterday that Queenshead had been taken by them and half the jungle was occupied with Gaius' forces. They were making a steady march towards Regalia, and she wasn't even close to being ready.

She had stationed soldiers at the Fount in order to back them up should Flavius turn his gaze towards the city, but she was guessing that Flavius would ignore it for now. Regalia was the greatest superpower of the Underland. If it fell, so would the rest of the Underland, and this meant that Flavius' priority would be getting his forces to the walled city and then tear it down brick for brick.

At that very moment, she had no one. No Howard, because he was helping his mother run affairs back in the Fount. No Gregor, who was trying to help his family. No Ripred, who had casually disappeared a couple of days ago. No Mareth and Vikus, who died in the battle of Regalia. No Hazard, who had become so infuriated by her political decisions that he refused to speak to her. She still had Aurora, but that was as good as it got. Hell, even Lapblood and Perdita didn't speak to her often these days.

The price of power was high- at the top, Luxa could be awfully lonely, especially now that her position had generated a lot of controversy following Ripred's radical proposal to become a democracy. It wasn't necessarily a bad idea, and perhaps Regalia would be ready for it some day, but at the moment it would only throw the city into more turmoil.

Perhaps she should consider abdicating after the war with the schemers and the Overlanders was over, assuming that it ended in Regalia's favour. Hypothetically, should they somehow win against the schemers, public approval of her would be high and there would be no apparent need to abdicate. But was it still right for her to sit on this throne? Did power belong only to one individual who was lucky in the birth lottery, rather than the people?

Luxa knew that she would have to grapple with her conscience sooner or later, but she wasn't quite emotionally prepared to do so now. She grabbed her robe, ready to put on her mask for yet another day. She had to look confident so that her people would believe she was still the appropriate choice to wield power in Regalia. If nobody had faith in her, if nobody respected her, if nobody trusted her with that power, then she was useless as a queen.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a black object hurtling across the city. She rushed to the window to see Apollo rocketing through the air, shaking quite violently as the people riding on his back lurched forwards and backwards. It was quite evident that he couldn't sustain the weight of so many on his back.

A guard knocked on the door frantically. "News from the wall, your Majesty!"

"Come in," she said.

He burst in, panting heavily. "The quest is successful, your Majesty. They rescued him."

"What quest? Who rescued who?" Luxa asked, perplexed by what was going on.

"The quest to rescue the Gunner, your Majesty," the guard informed her. "The Warrior and Lord Ripred embarked on this quest not five days ago."

Was that why they had been missing all along? They had gone on a quest without her permission?

"Where are they headed?" she asked the guard.

"The High Hall, your Majesty," the guard answered. "There are reports that all three have suffered injuries."

"Thank you," she said. "Prepare for their arrival. Make sure that doctors are on hand to assess their condition."

She quickly threw on her silky royal robes, disregarding her somewhat dishevelled appearance. She rushed out of her room and down the stairs, making her way to the High Hall as swiftly as possible. How could they go on a quest without her permission? And how did they know where to rescue Calvin? When did Calvin come back to the Underland?

She emerged into the High Hall, just in time to see Gregor and Ripred disembarking off Apollo, who looked absolutely exhausted. "Prepare another room for Apollo!" Gregor told an attendant, who nodded and rushed off.

"What is going on?" she asked, confused and a little irked.

"Ah, the classic debrief," Ripred sighed. "You can do the talking, Overlander. I don't intend to argue with her Majesty over this affair."

Gregor shot Ripred a look, before turning to face Luxa. His bloodstained forehead sent her stomach into a whole series of somersaults. He had a nasty gash on his temple, and half of his metal mask was missing, leaving half of his face covered and the other half exposed. His armour was badly dented and scratched, and it became blatantly obvious that he was nursing more than just a couple of bruises.

"I found out that the Overlander mercenaries had Calvin," Gregor explained while taking off his damaged mask. "I figured that in order to get him out we could only have two or three people on this mission at most. So I took Ripred along with me to get him out of there."

"You didn't take me along," Ripred corrected him. "I _agreed_ to come along."

"Shut up," Gregor said in frustration, to which Ripred just rolled his eyes. "So we went in there and got him out."

"And we happened to run into Flavius and Snake," Ripred added. "Quite the coincidence."

Luxa eyed the both of them. "You did all of this without my permission?"

"Yes," Ripred said immediately.

Gregor shot Ripred another dirty look before replying, "I knew that if I told you about my plan, you'd send a whole troop of soldiers along with me. I couldn't afford to have so many people coming along on a mission like this. They would have jeopardised any chance of success."

"Nonetheless," Luxa replied, trying to maintain her composure, "you should have sought out my permission."

"Whatever, my bad," Gregor said as he shifted from foot to foot. "I won't do that again, ok?"

"He will do it again," Ripred said, nodding his head slowly. "He'll definitely do it again."

"Oh my god," Gregor sighed. "Will you just shut up?"

As irritated as she was with the both of them, she also couldn't help but feel relieved that they had made it back largely in one piece. "How does Calvin fare?" she asked.

"Not well," Gregor said grimly. "Had to knock him out twice on the way back, and that's with the blindfold."

"You blindfolded him?"

"He appears to be frightened out of his wits by Apollo and me," Ripred explained. "I can understand why he'd be frightened of me, but Apollo? Apollo's as kind a soul as you'll get."

"Someone's messed with his brain," Gregor said. "We need to get him to Howard for a check-up."

"Howard's not around," Luxa told them. "But we'll still assign our best doctors on the case. And you two should go and get yourselves checked up as well."

"I'm fine," Gregor said gruffly.

"Well, I'm not," Ripred replied. "I'll have that check-up, thank you very much."

As he sauntered towards the hospital, Luxa devoted complete attention towards Gregor. "You two have worked out your differences?"

"For now, I guess," Gregor said gravely.

Luxa nodded in approval. With the Underland standing on the precipice of complete annihilation, they were going to need all of its heroes to rally together for a final showdown against the schemers and Operation Claw. They had the queen, the Peacemaker and the Warrior.

Regalia now had its Gunner back.

* * *

 **So we have a reunion! The characters from Regalian Bloodbath have come back together, and I can tell you that characters like Hecate, Hero and Lapblood will be making a return in this story!**

 **Favourites/Follows are recommended, please review too!**

 **Question: There are a few questions-**

 **1) Are you excited for the return of Hecate, Hero and Lapblood?**

 **2) How do you interpret Luxa's dream sequence?**

 **3) Why do you think there are so many dream sequences in this story?**

 **Please share your thoughts in the review section!**


	32. Chapter 32: Fear

**HEY EVERYONE! Here's chapter 32 after months of not updating. I'm really sorry about that, and I just want to thank everyone who has been supporting this story all this while. I know it has been frustrating for some of you to see this story not being updated (and I still cannot promise regular updates) but I hope that you continue to support this story nonetheless. After this, there are 18 more chapters, so at least we're more than halfway through this story.**

 **Given that it's been a while since you probably last read my story, I would strongly advise reading through the story or referring to previous chapters so you understand this chapter better and keep up.**

 **Oh, and sorry if the writing in this chapter isn't exactly my usual standard. I haven't quite gotten a hold of my old writing style and my writing may be a bit rusty. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway and that my writing is up to standard.**

 **This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.**

* * *

 **Chapter 32: Fear**

A muffled voice could be heard in the distance, and it contained the warmth which dispelled the cold that Calvin had been living in for what felt like years. It had the compassion which Calvin longed for and the patience that he never received. The world was too fast for him to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, but here, surrounded by darkness, he could revel in hearing a friend's voice once more.

Hecate's voice.

"Hecate?" he croaked out as he awaited his first glimpse of light. His throat was as sore and rough as an overused sheet of sandpaper. His attempt to moisten it was a sensitive one, as he felt his saliva run painfully over the lump in his throat. He could vaguely remember certain events, but the last few days had been as confusing as they were agonising. He couldn't quite figure out what his last memory was.

"I am here, Calvin," Hecate's voice broke past the pain barrier which shielded him from the rest of the world. He was still surrounded by darkness, but Hecate's voice had illuminated his world. Calvin thought he'd never see her again, but as fate would have it, the two of them had been reunited at last. An overwhelming feeling of relief exploded within him, triggering waves of emotion to crash hard and fast.

Hecate was finally next to him again.

Despite how weak he felt, he reached out feebly in the darkness, hoping that his blindness would not deny him the excitement of touching Hecate again. What felt like a claw wrapped around his outstretched hand, gripping it in a firm clasping of hand and claw, the symbol of unity between the two species.

The symbol of bonding.

"What… W-what happened?" he asked her, wheezing slightly from the rustiness of using his voice.

"Gregor rescued you," Hecate replied. "He brought you back to Regalia. You have been under medical care for the last two days."

"Is Howard taking care of me?" Calvin asked.

"I'm afraid not," Hecate told him. "A lot of things have… changed, since you left."

The melancholic edge was unmistakable. Bad things had happened in his absence, bad things which had broken people's hearts. Calvin wasn't the only one on the receiving end of physical and emotional pain.

He decided not to ask any more questions about Howard. It was clearly a sensitive topic. With his throat now throbbing in pain, he kept his words simple and to the point. "What's… happened?"

The slight sigh before Hecate spoke indicated to Calvin that Regalia wasn't fine and dandy. "Queen Luxa has been under a lot of stress these last few months," Hecate told him. "Gnawers still loyal to the Bane have set up a cult group near the Dead Lands. They intend to destroy Regalia."

Loyalists? Bane? What the hell was going on?

"Bane… alive?" he asked.

"No," Hecate replied. "It is far worse. His legacy lives on through his followers. They embody the worst of the Bane's traits and carry out his will. They will not stop till Regalia is destroyed."

Calvin knew the power of legacies. He had nearly been crushed under the weight of the Warrior's legacy, and it had taken great courage from him to break free from the chains of expectations and forge his own. Immortal legacies could both inspire and destroy an individual, which is why Calvin's family motto had been changed to " _Forging our own legacy_ ". It had so much more meaning than trying to live up to a titanic legacy.

"And?" he asked on.

There was a noticeable shudder in Hecate's voice as she replied, "They allied with… with… the Fount. The Fount tried to tear Regalia apart from the inside."

Calvin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even after the battle of Regalia, even after numerous lives had been sacrificed in the hope that the Underland would live in harmony and peace, even after all Underlanders had shed blood, sweat and tears as one united army, they had resorted to tearing each other apart because of their differences? Calvin could feel anger and disappointment brewing in his chest. This was precisely the reason why he wanted to give up his fight for justice.

He thought his bitter cynicism would fade away and give rise to hope for a better era, but the Underland seemed hell-bent on proving him wrong time and time again. He thought Gregor had become the living metaphor of the Underland- consumed by despair and guilt, but still finding the hope and courage to rise against diabolical evil. And even after all the times they had let him down, he still hadn't given up hope, fleeting as it may have been.

But in the end, Flavius was right. When the chips were down, they'd turn on each other like wolves. Honouring alliances and commitments didn't matter to anyone. It was truly heartbreaking that the Underlanders had proven Flavius right. His view of the world was cold, nihilistic, pessimistic, and above all, realistic.

Flavius.

How did Gregor rescue him?

"Flavius," he forced himself to say the fox's name out loud.

"He lives," Hecate answered him, and Calvin could hear the disdain in her voice. "Gregor tried to kill him, but he was far too strong. But they were able to rescue you from your prison, so that is all that matters."

Calvin gritted his teeth together at the news that Flavius was still alive, resulting in his jaw stinging from the grinding of his teeth. His broken jaw still hadn't fully mended, even whilst under the supervision of the doctors in his prison and the doctors in Regalia.

Then, out of the blue, he picked up on an anomaly in Hecate's response. "They?"

He heard a gulp, followed by a thunderous silence. "Who… else?" he asked.

"Ripred," Hecate whispered back in response, and the slight tremor in her voice was all Calvin needed to hear to know he wasn't supposed to know that Ripred was there.

His memory slowly pieced itself together as he was on the verge of solving the puzzle. "Ripred," he breathed aloud to himself. Now blurry images began to flood through as the dikes of pain broke down, resulting in his chance to view these pictures of the past. One stood out in particular, with Gregor bursting through the door and running straight for him.

Calvin had tried to shout a warning that it was a trap- Flavius had known he was coming all this while, and was preparing for a gladiator match between the both of them. But somehow, the words had never left his throat.

But why? Why did Calvin hold himself back?

Then he was struck with a swarm of horrific images. Black, beady eyes. Fur. Claws. Bleeding face. Empty eye sockets. A snarl, then a hiss. A face which personified terror. A naked tail, flying up and slapping itself down on his chest to the rhythm of his pounding heart.

Then a carcass rolled into view, its guts on the verge of spilling out all over Calvin. Missing genitals, and wounds inflicted by a combination of guns and swords painted the most grotesque picture Calvin had ever had the misfortune of looking at.

Then came white snow, bringing the harsh winter back with it. Calvin trembled from the cold and the fear, his world rocking from side to side as the white snow blended together to form soft fur, agonisingly brushing itself across his mouth, both invoking a scream and silencing him at the same time.

And then…

Calvin's heart felt like it had come to a standstill. An enormous monster stood in front of him, baring its teeth into a snarl. Foaming saliva flowed out of its mouth, and its red eyes settled on Calvin with burning intensity. Its fur was as grey as the ashes of the dead, and it unfurled its claws sinisterly.

Calvin would have screamed if his throat weren't so dry. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage and he was churning out sweat in bucketloads. The images violated his mind, turning it inside out and robbing him of any tranquility he had established over the last few minutes with Hecate. His mind was more defiled and desecrated than a Greek temple burned to the ground. Those images of the… the… monsters, repeatedly thrust themselves into his mind, shredding it to pieces.

But Hecate's voice rescued him when all hope seemed lost.

"Calvin?"

He snapped out of his nightmarish stupor and focused on her voice, using it to anchor him to reality. "Hecate," he breathed. "Stay with me."

"I will always be with you, Calvin," she replied. "Always."

A tidal wave of pain crashed into him once more as he remembered the name he had uttered. "Ripred," he said out loud hesitantly, afraid of triggering another series of horrific images.

"Yes, he saved you," Hecate answered him.

"I never saw him," Calvin replied, gulping slowly. "I only saw Gregor and… and… and…"

There was another being in the room, but Calvin seemed to have erased any memory of that being. It was almost as if… almost as if he had censored that being to protect himself. But if that being was Ripred, then why would he have rejected any memory of Ripred. And more importantly, why had he not recognised Ripred?

"Hecate, why am I in the dark?" he asked abruptly.

Hecate slipped into silence once more, betraying her unrest at having to speak to Calvin. "You're in the hospital, Calvin," she replied.

"But why am I in the dark?" Calvin pressed on. "Am I… am I blind?"

A loud sigh shattered the fragile silence that ensued, before Hecate replied, "No, Calvin. You are not blind."

It didn't take Calvin long to put two and two together. "I'm blindfolded."

Another painfully obvious pause followed, before Hecate answered, "Yes, yes you are."

"Why am I being blindfolded?" he asked, somehow dreading the answer he would get.

Hecate's voice sounded unusually shaky as she replied, "Calvin… The… The doctors say they don't… they don't th-think you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Calvin asked agitatedly, starting to feel very impatient.

He heard Hecate gulp and the tension in the air almost became palpable within seconds. "Not ready… N-Not ready to see the world," she told him.

Calvin's muscles tensed up and he clenched his fists. "What are they talking about?"

"They say your body is full of foreign chemicals," Hecate explained. "There are many substances that they have not chanced upon yet, but there is one that they have identified."

A memory conveniently resurfaced- a memory which was blurred and tainted by raw fear. But he could still remember what Snake had said- " _Flavius claims that it's called the Murk back in Regalia. Have you heard of it?"_

"The green poison," Calvin breathed. "The Murk."

The suffocating darkness engulfed him even more, constricting him and stealing ragged breaths away, leaving Calvin gasping for air as fear and pain began to possess him. A cloud of black, hovering in the air menacingly and gazing down at him without pity. Red eyes. The slightest hint of wings fluttering nearby.

Calvin gritted his teeth. It was all not real. None of it had happened. The Murk was toying with his mind, trying to tease out a flinch or a panicked yelp from him. But Calvin was stronger than that- he didn't cave in to artificial impulses. He had overcome the power of the Murk before and he was going to do it again.

And yet his blindness, coupled with his fear, created an atmosphere of Stygian bleakness, where courage and hope could not be bred even with the seeds planted in his soul by Fabius. The slightest hesitations and pauses he detected from Hecate was enough to cast doubt, but the fact that the doctors had decided to blanket his world in shadow was honestly mind-boggling and fear-inducing. It was almost as if… almost as if they were protecting him from what he could have seen.

"Calvin," Hecate began uncertainly, "the doctors have said that you are not well. Until they can find a way to cure your illness, you have to stay this way."

"I'm not ill," Calvin growled. "Keeping me blindfolded won't do us any good."

"You don't know that, Calvin," Hecate replied. "I think it would be best for all of us if you stayed blindfolded. We have no idea what you've been exposed to."

Before Calvin could reply, a chorus of voices suddenly erupted, revealing the presence of other people in his hospital room. The chatter was too incoherent for Calvin to decipher what they were saying, but a familiar voice could be heard in the distance, a voice which Calvin had longed to hear again.

It was Gregor.

"-use echolocation, at least for the next few days," he heard his friend say. "It's the best alternative we have right now."

"Gregor?" Calvin croaked out, hoping to catch the attention of the messiah of the Underland.

In a flash, he felt a strong hand grip his, its warmth travelling up his arm and wrapping itself around his heart. "Hey Calvin," Gregor said as a hush fell on the room. "You doing alright, buddy?"

"Could be better," Calvin replied, allowing himself a pained smile. "You eavesdropping on me?"

A short but genuine laugh broke out amongst some of the other people in the room, including Hecate. "Don't worry," Gregor replied. "You didn't say anything embarrassing."

"It's good to hear from you again," Calvin replied. Gregor's sense of humour a welcome breath of fresh air compared to the perpetual brooding behaviour that Calvin had slowly become accustomed to. There was something different about this Gregor and Calvin could feel it in his voice- the slightly uplifting tone, the belief and strength… It was almost as if after all these years, Gregor had finally rediscovered hope once more.

But Gregor's shift in tone suggested that the darker side of him still remained, and was still an inherent part of his evolving character. "Calvin," he said, "I know it's tough for you right now and you've been through a lot of shit, but for the safety of yourself and the people around you, it's best you stay blindfolded."

"Safety?" Calvin said incredulously.

"Yea," Gregor replied. "The doctors say there's reason to believe that you might be a potential threat to others cos… cos… cos you don't see them as what they are."

"What does that even mean?" Calvin asked, perplexed by the deliberate vagueness in Gregor's answer.

"You started to scream when you saw Ripred," Gregor explained bluntly. "And you were screaming all the way on the journey back to Regalia while riding on Apollo. I think you should stay blind until the doctors can figure out what's wrong with you."

Screaming? No wonder his throat was so hoarse.

But why did he scream?

There was something about Ripred and something about Apollo that had induced fear, but he still couldn't figure it out. He tried to recall their appearance, but no images came to mind. It was almost as if he was subconsciously blocking himself out, because he absolutely couldn't remember what they looked like.

"Who else is in the room?" he asked Gregor abruptly.

"A couple of doctors and Hazard," Gregor replied. "Ripred and Lapblood are hanging about outside. I think Apollo's outside as well, but I'm not really sure about him. Luxa visited you earlier, but y'know she's queen and all, so… she doesn't really have the time to sit here and watch you sleep."

Calvin was suddenly bathed in waves of guilt and remorse when Gregor mentioned Luxa's name. He still hadn't apologised to Luxa for killing her grandfather, and he wasn't looking forward to the day when he had to sit down with her and explain himself. Luxa was a good queen, but she wasn't exactly the wise, sagely leader that Vikus was. Not yet, at least. The conversation was bound to be awkward and emotional at its very best.

But Calvin found the resolve in himself to shut the thought out. "Hey Hazard," he called out weakly.

"Greetings, Calvin," Hazard's distinct voice rang in. "It has been far too long since we last saw you."

"And I haven't seen you yet," Calvin replied. "Gregor, you can't keep me blindfolded forever."

"We don't want to," Gregor explained earnestly. "But I've told you already- the doctors don't want you to take it off."

"That's complete bullshit," Calvin snarled. "I'm fine."

He brought his aching arms up to his face level and pulled the fabric off his face.

The first thing that struck him was the glaring light in the room. The flames roared into his vision, ironically blinding him again and forcing him to close his eyes once more. But with iron grit which he had cultivated over the years, he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, forcing himself to draw in the sights and images.

He could see Hazard in the background, his lime-green eyes staring intently at Calvin with concern and intrigue. Gregor's chiselled features soon shifted into view, his face looming over Calvin. Calvin had to fight the urge to unleash the goofiest grin he had ever had the inclination to produce. Seeing Gregor again stirred up a powerful mixture of ecstasy, excitement and relief. There was a time deep down in perpetual darkness when Calvin thought he'd never see Gregor again.

His eyes began to wander across the room, taking in familiar faces and unfamiliar ones alike. But a terribly sinister feeling of unborn fear began to grow slowly in his gut as his eyes continued to travel across the room, processing every nook and cranny. His gaze tended to linger on when it settled on the eerie shadows hiding in the corners of the room, haunting his every step…

And then a shadow appeared right by his bedside.

Calvin's heart skipped a beat and he found himself jerking upwards violently, scrambling backwards involuntarily. The shadow seemed to cock its head to the right, before attempting to inch closer to Calvin.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Calvin yelled at it.

The shadow's eyes suddenly lit up in the absorbing blackness. Its red eyes locked its gaze on Calvin and seemed to eye Calvin from head to toe. Calvin found himself fixated on the ruby-coloured irises, as fear latched onto his heart and began to gnaw away at his soul. There was a certain intimacy that Calvin shared with the shadow, an intimacy he had been unwilling to be a part of.

The shadow suddenly became a speck amongst thousands of other shadows, all of which flitted through the air in synchronised unison. They slowly began to assemble themselves, hovering in front of him with seemingly eager anticipation. Calvin writhed around desperately on the spot, hoping for the nightmare to collapse and for the light of reality to pierce through the horrific shadow.

But no such thing happened. Instead, the shadows began to screech at the top of their lungs, ear-piercing shrieks now echoing around Calvin's head as they once had before. There were frantic voices in the background, trying to be heard over the incessant shrieks that inflicted so much pain on Calvin. But he couldn't hear them at all. They were just soft whispers in the thunderous awakening of the night.

Millions of little red eyes began to appear as the tiny shadows merged with each other, coalescing together to reform that huge shadow that he had seen initially. It revealed razor-sharp teeth with a fierce snarl that sent multiple shivers down Calvin's spine. It opened its mouth and unintelligible words spewed out, sounding more like a feral beast in the midst of a torture session.

Calvin's whole body was drenched in sweat and his heart was on the verge of pounding its way out of his chest. His eyes were wide open and yet all he could see was an all-consuming darkness, intent on devouring him and everything that looked beautiful under the comforting embrace of light. Calvin tried to scream for help, but nothing came out. It was starting to become an undesirable trend- his inability to make any noise when it mattered most.

Suddenly, he heard Hecate's voice penetrate through the impervious defence of darkness. "Calvin!" she yelled at him faintly.

"Hecate!" he screamed back softly.

But no response came his way. He was truly alone, surrounded by fear and nihilistic gloom. Calvin forced words out of his throat, unleashing a guttural cry for help. "HELP ME!" he bellowed. "HELP ME!"

Suddenly, someone crashed into him and pinned him down on the bed, inadvertently dragging him back into reality. He struggled desperately on the bed, but whoever was holding him back and restraining him was clearly backed by the forces of nature. Even with all of Calvin's strength, he could barely move a muscle.

Gregor's face suddenly appeared above him. "GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!" Gregor growled.

Calvin tried to talk, but he found his mouth clogged up by saliva. It sounded so hilarious- a saviour of the Underland being pinned down by one of his best friends as he foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog. It must have been hilarious to look at, but Calvin was more preoccupied with his fear than anything else.

He spat the saliva out of his mouth so he could speak. "GET OFF ME!" he yelled back at Gregor.

"I told you to stay blindfolded," Gregor hissed at him. "I TOLD YOU!"

"THERE'S A SHADOW!" Calvin roared back at Gregor, causing Gregor to flinch slightly as his spittle landed on the Warrior's face. "THE SHADOW'S COME FOR US!"

"IT'S HECATE, STUPID!" Gregor hollered back at him.

Hecate? No, it couldn't be. Calvin clearly saw a shadow. He knew what Hecate looked like- jet-black, beady black eyes the size of little pearls, fairly large wings for a female bat… The shadow looked nothing like her. Gregor was gravely mistaken on this matter, and they were all going to die if he didn't warn them in time.

He gritted his teeth and lashed out with a kick at Gregor's abdomen, sending Gregor tumbling off him with a grunt of pain. He sprang to his feet and looked around the room. Hazard was trying to tell him something, but Calvin's whole world was spinning too fast for him to figure out what the hell Hazard was trying to tell him.

Then the shadow reemerged, revealing its incisors with yet another animalistic snarl. Snarling back at the beast, Calvin hurled himself through the air…

Only for someone to collide into him again, sending him crashing against the hospital wall. Calvin looked up to see who his attacker was.

Gregor glowered down at him.

Of course it was Gregor.

But even the great Warrior of Regalia could be blinded to the threats around him. "I'm sorry, Gregor," Calvin said, before firing a punch towards Gregor's face.

But Gregor pulled off a stupendous reaction by catching his fist that rivalled any reaction Calvin had ever witnessed while fighting Snake.

"You can't see the monster!" Calvin snapped at Gregor.

Gregor suddenly grabbed Calvin's shirt and hauled Calvin up, before slamming him down with enough force to send the air rushing out of Calvin's lungs. Calvin gasped desperately but Gregor didn't bother to give him a reprieve. Grunting heavily, he pushed Calvin up against the wall and pinned him there. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Gregor boomed imperiously, causing Calvin's heart to flutter slightly in the presence of the killing machine in front of him.

But Calvin had heart, and he had it in spades. He brought his fist up and drove it into Gregor's ribs, eliciting another hiss of pain from Gregor. As the Warrior's grip on his shirt slackened, Calvin seized the opportunity and headbutted Gregor's chin, sending him stumbling backwards from the shock and pain.

With the Warrior reeling, Calvin rushed forward and crashed headfirst into him, sending the both of them sprawling across the room. Calvin tried to get to his feet hastily, but he was far too weak to steady himself on his own. He reached out to use the wall as support, but Gregor's boot suddenly flew into his vision and struck his arm, causing Calvin to yelp sharply from the sting of the kick.

Gregor sprang towards him, but Calvin lunged weakly to one side, narrowly evading his friend. The commotion in the room had now deteriorated to becoming a dull throb, with Calvin barely aware of what was being said or of what was going on in the room. All he could focus on was that menacing shadow, lurking quietly in plain sight and yet so elusive to all others except for Calvin himself.

It was his duty to slay the shadow. Only he could see it. He had to protect Hazard and Gregor and whoever else was in danger of being consumed by it.

He had to protect Hecate.

And yet… and yet, he couldn't bring himself to move against it. Fear now had him on a leash and he was being held back. His heart burst into yet another killing sprint as torrents of sweat soaked his shirt and skin.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" A piercing voice cut the leash of fear loose.

Calvin spun around to find Gregor glaring straight at him. Calvin snarled almost bestially and rushed at Gregor once more, determined to protect the Warrior by fighting him this time. Everything around him seemed to slow down- it was almost as if his soul was now a distinctly separate part of his body, witnessing his own body take flow and fight. It was all so distant, Gregor, the environment around him, the clothes he was wearing… All just a meaningless blur.

His head felt slightly elevated and his legs, which had been feeling like lead up to this point, suddenly began to lighten and almost fade away from his consciousness. Calvin stumbled forward carelessly, feeling as if he had been intoxicated by fear and exhaustion. But he steeled himself as Gregor advanced towards him slowly.

He rushed straight at Gregor- an amateur and stupid mistake. Gregor sidestepped the movement easily and stuck out a leg, sending Calvin crashing into the wall. Calvin, despite now having to endure both throbbing and stinging pain, just hissed and forced himself to his feet. He spun around just in time to block Gregor's right hook, but was powerless to prevent Gregor from jabbing his right side with his left fist.

Calvin staggered backwards, inhaling even more heavily with each breath. Gregor was merciless this time, though, and he followed up with a roundhouse kick that smacked against Calvin's face. Calvin hit the ground hard once more as the air rushed out of his lungs. He was vaguely aware of blood trickling down the side of his head, but he deliberately ignored it. Any recognition of his pain was a sign of weakness.

And Gregor would exploit any sign of weakness.

He looked up defiantly at Gregor, who towered over him. "What… w-what are you doing?" Calvin choked out, still struggling to breathe.

"I'm going easy on you," his friend replied coldly. "I could have all four of your limbs broken right now. And if I have to do that… I will, even if it's _you_."

"You don't see it," Calvin mumbled, shaking his head. "None of you can see it."

"See what?"

Calvin was suddenly too tired to conjure up an articulate response. He had no more breath to waste on explaining the situation to Gregor. "You don't see it," he repeated himself.

Before he could register anything, Gregor had hoisted him up and slammed him back down on the hospital bed. "Don't make me do this," the Warrior said through gritted teeth.

Calvin just shook his head.

"What are you seeing? What did you see back when we were flying on Apollo?" Gregor snarled. "What monster are you talking about?"

Calvin was close to tumbling into oblivion. He was still conscious of where he was and what he was saying, but he was as dazed as it got. The lights in the room were shining like supernovas, beckoning him to leave this world and his existence behind in order to fall into the void. An abyss of darkness would wrap him in a cold embrace, and give him the meaningless, eternal sleep he had been yearning for…

"Answer me, Calvin!" Gregor barked, shocking him temporarily out of his stupor.

"When you rescued me," Calvin barely breathed out, "I saw a monster behind you. The monster was next to you when we were flying out, and we were flying off on a different monster. That different monster was next to me when I removed my blindfold."

Something seemed to dawn on Gregor, and his grip on Calvin loosened slightly once more. His face seemed to register surprise and horror as he backed off slightly. "The bastard," Gregor almost whispered. "He poisoned you with a huge dose of Murk. He's conditioned you to be frightened of rats and bats."

"What?" Calvin asked, as he slowly slipped towards unconsciousness.

"There's nothing we can do," Gregor sighed in frustration. "It'll take years to remove the poison from the blood."

On impulse, Calvin suddenly attempted to fire a punch at Gregor, which was a stupid and clearly half-hearted attempt even to his addled mind. Gregor caught the punch easily and looked down at his friend.

Calvin could see a whole spectrum of emotions- disappointment, horror, relief, frustration… and even pity, all encapsulated in one distracted, mournful look.

"I'm sorry, Calvin," Gregor said. "I'm really sorry."

And then he fired a brutal punch between Calvin's eyes, finally pushing Calvin into the cold, infinite darkness.

* * *

 **Well, this was a chapter to string the story together now that Calvin and Gregor are reunited. And I hope you enjoyed the (admittedly) short fight scene between Calvin and Gregor at the end.**

 **As usual, favourites/follows are recommended, and please don't forget to leave a review behind!**

 **Question: Tell me your thoughts about Calvin's fear of bats and rats!**

 **Share your thoughts in the reviews section!**


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